#he doesn’t get that far because of the Night Fury chilling in the corner of the living room | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 3 years

Text

The Value of a Friend

Peter Parker is fairly surprised when a classmate, Y/N L/N, is able to figure out his secret identity as Spider-Man. He’ll come to rely on her over the next few months, although he may make a surprise discovery about his feelings for her on the school trip to Europe.

masterlist

Peter Parker’s legs swing absentmindedly over the edge of the roof. There’s nothing much going on right now- brick, stucco, and metal as far as the eye can see. The lights of the city that never sleeps reflect off of the windows; a thousand sights and sounds and happenings littered down the boulevards. Despite all the comings and goings, the rush of people across the streets, nothing major has happened all night. Peter knows he technically shouldn’t be hoping for crime, but he does want at least one thing to happen to justify him staying up this late on patrol duty.

Peter’s got the usual mask pulled down over his face, disguising the heavy circles under his eyes. He may have superhuman strength and durability, but his powers don’t appear to help him run on less sleep. However, Peter’s used to staying up long nights patrolling. This particular moonlit outing isn’t unusual.

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye, and Peter shifts to glance over at the orderly streets behind him. There- a girl walking down a sidewalk, her pace brisk and hurried to steer her quickly through an alleyway. With a rush, Peter realizes that he recognizes the girl. Her name is Y/N L/N, she’s in some of his classes. He wouldn’t exactly consider her a best friend, maybe more of an acquaintance. This isn’t due to any specific animosity, Peter just never really got the chance to talk to her. Sometimes, however, he wishes he had.

Y/N isn’t just smart like the other students in his class, she’s clever. Peter has seen the way her eyes light up when she figures something out, the same light that winks out from underneath her eyelashes when she laughs over a bad joke with her friends. Peter shakes himself for a second. Why is he thinking so much about her eyes? He shouldn’t have the way she smiles memorized at all, ready to call up at a moment’s notice.

Besides, Peter realizes with a dull chill, Y/N’s eyes are different from Peter’s on one grand scale. Y/N has no superpowered senses, and so she cannot tell that there are two or three men shadowing her as she wends through the streets. Peter curses softly, realizing that the men are definitely following her. Without a second thought, he leaps down from the building, swinging towards them on ropes of spider silk.

Peter’s goal was to take them out before they got close enough to reach Y/N. However, they were too far away and it doesn’t look like a secret rescue will be happening tonight. They’ve already cornered her in a narrow street, hands pulling guns out of coat pockets. Peter acts as quickly as he can- spiderweb launched at one, dragging him back against the wall of the street. The other Peter takes on directly, aiming a blow at the man’s head that knocks him backward before Peter hits him again. Peter would usually tie the thugs up and leave them for some other soul to deal with, but the men are already running away without a second’s hesitation and he doesn’t much feel like trying to track them down.

There’s a soft sound behind him, like a gasp of breath, and Peter turns around to see Y/N standing there, looking shaken but unhurt. Peter panics for a moment before remembering that his mask is still snugly in place. She would have no way of knowing him. Peter takes a hesitant step closer, reaching out his hands to show that he means no harm. “I’m, uh, Spider-Man. Are you alright?”

Y/N shakes her head hastily. “No, I’m fine. Thank you for saving me from those guys.” Peter waves a hand. “No problem. All in the job description, you know?” Y/N laughs, but the sound dies slowly from her lips as she stares at him. Her head cocks slightly to the side, as if she’s considering something. She raises a hand slowly to point at him like she’s unsure of a truth but determined to say it nonetheless.

“Are you Peter Parker?” Peter stiffens, turning hurriedly to make sure that nobody could have heard her. Dimly, he realizes that he should have denied this first instead of acting like this was something to be hidden. “Uh, no. I don’t know who that is.” The lie sounds fake even to his own lips. A small smile is growing over Y/N’s lips, as if she’s incredulous. “You are. Peter Parker from chem class is Spider-Man.”

Peter figures that the game is up, so he tugs his mask from his head. Y/N’s eyes dart to his face, washing over every detail as if in awe. “It’s true. You’re actually Spider-Man?” Peter nods thickly. “How did you know it was me?” A slight blush forms in Y/N’s cheeks. “I, uh, you looked familiar.” Peter raises an eyebrow. “I was wearing a mask.” Y/N blushes harder. “You have the same voice. Is that better? You sound the exact same.”

Peter lets out a huff of breath at that. He can’t deny it- he’s messed around with voice settings on the suit before but never bothered to permanently give himself a different-sounding voice as Spider-Man. Now he’s paying the price for it. “Maybe.” A slight smile tugs at the corners of Y/N’s lips. “You were ready to be Spider-Man but you didn’t even have an excuse prepared to explain yourself?” Peter feels defensive. “Well, most people don’t actually figure it out. You’re the first, actually. Well, I had to tell Ned but only because he saw me crawling on the ceiling. I didn’t realize he was there, though. I don’t usually crawl on ceilings.”

Peter realizes he’s rambling and does his best to stop talking. Y/N’s smiling at him again, and he feels surprisingly fine about it. “I would hope not. Crawling on ceilings is kind of hard to explain away.” Peter scratches the back of his head, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, that’s kind of why I had to tell him.” Y/N flashes him a grin. “Well, I appreciate the rescue, Peter-Not-Spider-Man. I’ll see you in class?” Suddenly, Peter doesn’t want to leave. “I can walk you home if you like? I hear it’s kind of dangerous out here.” Y/N nods her approval. “Sure thing. Just make sure you put your mask back on first.”

Peter becomes friends with Y/N after that. There’s almost no way not to- she knows the biggest secret of his life, how could they not be friends? Ned is thrilled to find another ‘Friend of Spider-Man’, as he dubs Y/N, and the three of them get along surprisingly well. MJ, too, is glad to see Y/N around, although MJ has yet to discover Peter’s secret. At the rate he’s going, though, Peter has a shifting feeling that she’ll find out soon enough.

It’s after one of his late night patrol rounds that Peter finds himself knocking on Y/N’s window. He’s slumped against the window sill, hand pressed to his side. There was a mass robbery on the East Side, something Peter stupidly thought he could handle without a second thought. He stopped the robbery, that was true, but they’d managed to fire off several shots with some newfangled weaponry that even Tony would have to take a second look at. The result is this: a bloody cut on his side that doesn’t look like it will be going away any time soon.

After a couple of seconds, Y/N throws open her window. She leans out, eyes widening when she sees Peter still dressed in his Spider-Man suit. “What’s going on?” She hisses, then her gaze finds the bloody slit on his side. “What is that?” She glances behind her, as if making sure everyone is asleep, then gestures hurriedly for him to climb through the window after her. “Quick, come in.” Once Peter’s standing in her room, Y/N closes the window, then leans against it, staring at the blood on his hands and the nervous look in his eyes.

“What happened?” Peter grimaces. “Robbery. Bit off a little more than I can chew. Do you have a first aid kit? I think I need to get this bandaged up but if I go home now Aunt May will freak out. I can’t stress her anymore, and I don’t think Ned knows how to stop bleeding.” Y/N shakes her head. “Gotcha. Give me a second, I can grab some supplies.” Y/N heads out of her room, reappearing in a minute or so with a box of bandages and medical supplies held triumphantly in front of her.

She directs Peter to sit on a chair by her desk, and he does so, careful not to get any blood on, well, anything. Y/N takes a seat opposite him, bandages and an antibiotic for disinfecting the wound in her hands. Her brow furrows as she begins to treat the wound, and Peter can’t help but let his gaze linger across the determined look in her eyes, the slight curve of her lips as she focuses on the cut on his side.

After a while she straightens up, and Peter looks away hurriedly, feeling a slight blush heat up his cheeks. “I think that should hold you for a while. You said you had superhuman strength and stuff like that, right? You’ll probably be able to sleep it off.” Peter climbs back through the window, but just before he swings away he turns back, leaning his head through the opening to Y/N’s room. “Thanks a lot, Y/N. I mean it. I can’t think of anyone else I could turn to.” Y/N smiles at him, a smile that seems to light up the whole room. “No problem, Peter. If you’ve got my back, I’ve got yours.”

Peter is certainly grateful for his friendship with Y/N over the next couple of months. He ends up making a couple more stops by her room for help patching up various injuries, and when he has to deal with the aftermath of Tony’s death, she’s always there with some way to hear him out and cheer him up. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he would do without her.

When Peter gets word of the school trip to Europe, he thinks it’s the best thing that could happen to him in a while. Time to himself, with friends, touring interesting places. He’s hoping that a change in scene will finally let him breathe for a second, let him put aside the mask and suit and be Peter Parker once more. However, the appearance of the suit in his suitcase and one Nick Fury convinces him that this trip won’t just be a vacation, however much he wants it. Hopefully, he’ll have time to tell MJ how he feels in between the attacks of the elementals.

MJ. What is Peter supposed to do about MJ? He knows he has feelings for her, that much is obvious. He had a plan, carefully laid out steps that would culminate in Peter telling MJ he loves her and presenting her with a black dahlia necklace. However, as the fights with the elementals grow and grow, he has a feeling that won’t entirely work out. What is he supposed to do now?

He’s confessed his plan to Ned, just to hear another point of view. He told Y/N actually, at a different point in time. She’d seen the necklace and was wondering if he had a sudden taste in jewelry. It was strange, though, the second Peter had told her how he felt about MJ Y/N had gotten this sudden look, like she was shuttering the light in her eyes closed against the world. The sight of her, the smile slipping from her lips, made Peter feel like he’d done something terribly wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. Y/N seemed fine after that, but he did notice that she stopped talking about the dahlia necklace or anything in the plan at all.

Things with the elementals end up going from bad to worse. Peter finds out that the man he thought was his friend, Quentin Beck, was actually the one behind the elementals all along. In fact, the elementals were nothing more than elaborate holograms, and Peter had gone and given Beck control over E.D.I.T.H. in the form of Tony’s glasses. Mr. Stark’s last gift to him, and Peter had tossed it away in a moment of misplaced trust.

It’s not like Peter is alone, though. MJ found out about Peter’s secret identity as Spider-Man, and now she, Y/N, and Ned are figuring out how to take down Mysterio alongside Peter. Peter feels a sudden rush of gratitude as he looks back at his friends. With people like them, people that matter that much to him, Peter feels like he could take on the world. And with Mysterio’s control over E.D.I.T.H., he just may have to.

The battle ends up going surprisingly well. Peter manages to turn the tide on Mysterio, refusing to fall for any of the man’s schemes and tricks. In the end, he is able to wrest control of E.D.I.T.H. away from Mysterio, thus enabling him to remove all of the drones and end the man’s plans once and for all. Now that the fight is over, though, Peter almost doesn’t know what to do.

He finds himself stumbling down Tower Bridge, limping from all of the various injuries he’s managed to obtain during the fight. The first thought in his head is that he should look for Y/N, for the one girl he always turns to whenever he needs help. Then MJ runs out from among the cars, and Peter focuses instead on her. She dashes over to him, throwing her arms around him and telling him that yes, everyone is okay and yes, he saved them all.

Distantly, Peter can see the figures of Ned and Y/N approaching, but it’s alright. They’re his friends, he doesn’t have to worry about pulling his mask back on. Peter pulls away, fishing around in his pocket for the black dahlia necklace. He feels crushed to see that it’s in pieces, but MJ says something about how she likes it better broken. It’s funny, though- Y/N has always been able to fix things. To fix him.

Peter pushes Y/N out of his mind. He’s not thinking about his friend, he’s thinking about MJ. MJ, the girl he loves, the girl who is right in front of him. The girl who’s just leaned forward and kissed him. Peter lets himself kiss her back, lets himself lean into her and block out the rest of the world. There’s the screech of traffic echoing around him from the parts of the city that haven’t yet shut down, and that is what drags Peter back to reality.

They break apart after a few seconds. MJ starts to step away, saying something about how she should probably get going before too many people see familiar Midtown students with Spider-Man. Peter nods, noting that Ned and Y/N have changed direction upon seeing MJ head their way once more. There’s a strange expression on Y/N’s face, a strange emptiness that hadn’t been there before. Peter wants to go run after her, to say something to make that quiet sorrow go away, but his feet feel leaden in place and all he can do is watch as she walks away.

Peter gets back to his hotel room late that night. Ned files in after him, chuckling softly about how his best friend managed to save the day and get with MJ in one go. However, Ned’s face falls as he says this. “Did you really have to kiss her in front of Y/N, though?” Peter frowns over at his friend. “What do you mean?” Ned spreads his hands. “Well, you know, because Y/N likes you. I thought it would be kind of mean to kiss MJ when she was right there.”

Peter feels like the ground is falling away underneath his feet. “Y/N likes me?” Ned nods. “Didn’t you know? She’s had a crush on you for a while now. Sorry, Peter, I thought you knew. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” Peter waves away his friend’s apology, already heading to the door. Ned’s voice stops him. “You won’t be able to find her. She was scheduled to take an earlier trip home. Remember? It was planned out earlier in the month. She had to make it home early for some family reason, she talked about it on the flight.” Peter remembers this now, and his stomach turns at the thought of Y/N on that plane, all alone and stuck with the picture of him and MJ kissing.

Ned turns away to pack his suitcase, but Peter can’t think about anything productive at all. He’s beginning to realize that he’s made a very big mistake, something he can only hope to undo. There was a reason he hadn’t felt anything when he kissed MJ, when it had been awkward and emotionless. It wasn’t just because they were tired teenagers and didn’t know what to do, it was because he didn’t love her at all. No, the girl Peter loved is on a plane right now, and she thinks that Peter doesn’t care about her when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

What is he supposed to do? Y/N will hate him for this. Somehow, that one thought is enough to motivate him to reach towards his suitcase, to start packing again. He has to make it back, has to find his way home to tell Y/N how he really feels. He can only hope that Y/N will let him stick around long enough to say it.

Y/N doesn’t come to her window for a long time after Peter knocks. He’s almost beginning to think that it’s a lost cause and she’ll never want to speak to him again when the sash gently opens and Y/N leans out. She’s usually used to seeing Peter crouched on her windowsill, but for some reason she startles at seeing him like it’s his first time visiting.

Peter speaks softly, his voice barely louder than the wind. “I think I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.” Y/N holds up a hand. “I don’t need any explanations. You can do whatever you want, you didn’t have to come by.” Peter shakes his head. “Yes, I did. I know you had feelings for me once. I was kind of hoping that you hadn’t changed your mind about me.”

Peter ends up leaving Y/N’s room much later. He has a grin that he can’t seem to shake, and a bounce in his step that doesn’t fade for hours. He might just have managed to save himself, to convince the girl he loves that she should take a chance and stay with him. Besides, he’s kissed her enough to say a thousand words.

peter parker/marvel tag list: @namoreno, @mycosmicparadise

#peter parker #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #spiderman #spiderman imagines #spiderman x reader #spiderman oneshot #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #avengers oneshot #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu x reader #mcu oneshot

223 notes · View notes

renegadeontherunn · 3 years

Note

19 for the prompts if you haven’t receive it yet <3

of course jas my beloved!!!! thank you so much for the ask <3333

19. "You were supposed to be there." // from these prompts! // read it on ao3!

The Force is just as surprised as they are.

So when a flash of orange darts around the corner accompanied by two white blurs, Anakin and Obi-Wan don’t even get the chance to blink in appropriate surprise before they’re on the ground. A knock to Obi-Wan’s head and in the delay, his wrists are bound with Force suppressors. He half crumples when they make the fatal click, strength, peace, power smothered under frigid metal.

Ahsoka almost feels bad.

Almost.

The real pain comes after weeks in those horrible cuffs, the hole in your head, in the air, where your whole life used to reside growing sharper, hungrier, darker. But Obi-Wan will understand that soon enough. Just like she had.

“Ahsoka?”

It’s Anakin—isn’t it always?—and his voice is dripping with shock. One of the guards Ahsoka had taken with her on this little hunt, Cross, has Anakin’s arms wrenched behind his back, but the Force suppressors still dangle from his belt. Ahsoka is banking on Anakin’s confusion, his attachment, to keep him weak. She can’t take that same chance with Obi-Wan.

“Ahsoka you—you’re here.” His eyes are wide like a child’s, and Ahsoka can practically see all the things he wants to say crowding behind his tongue. “What’s going on? Are—are you alright?”

It’s been months since she’s seen either of them and when she’d trudged down the steps of the Temple this was certainly not how she’d expected their reunion to go. A small part of Ahsoka, the part that’s still the other one, grips her ribs and screams to be let out. To reach out to her Master, her brother, to slip back into the spot between him and Obi-Wan where she’d fit so well for years. Her throat grows tight. Ahsoka despises her. And so she leans harder on the Force like she’s been taught and hopes the voice—voices—will die out in agony. Starting with his.

“Ahsoka?”

Obi-Wan hasn’t spoken yet. Silence is a weapon too and Ahsoka doesn’t appreciate such chilling indifference. She remembers why she’s here. Not to talk or back down or weep. She’s here to kill.

She takes a soft step forward and almost like he knows what’s coming, Anakin starts struggling against the guard, trying to push himself to his feet, words tumbling out of his mouth. “Ahsoka, wait, wait, wait, what’s—what’s going on?” Thunder cracks low in the sky and it’s only then that Ahsoka notices the enormous hole blown out of the Temple hallway. Smoke blackens the night sky and shrieking sirens collide with the screaming Force. “Ahsoka?”

She can tell he’s trying to ignore the flashing gold of her eyes, but he can’t look past the blood-red beam of light that ignites from her saber. Ahsoka has never seen him more in denial, more heartbroken than he is kneeling before her now. Her ever-sure steps stutter and to compensate, she digs down into her rage. Anger keeps her strong, keeps her fighting, it shields her from the weakness that love or pity or regret will sink her to.

“Ahsoka, stop!” Her hand is already shaking on her lightsaber hilt. Ahsoka strikes Anakin across the face, her metal-laden fist cutting a line of blood down his cheek. She’s never preferred such hands-on combat, two lightsabers and her agility give the distance and speed she needs to fight, but rage—and it’s rage, she tells herself, not sorrow, not grief, not guilt—is weighing her down.

That’s fine. Power can be a million things and so can Ahsoka.

The need to adapt has been forced on her by the very people Anakin and Obi-Wan are trying to protect, and it’s always good to give back.

She realizes she’s still hitting him. Anakin’s face is awash in blood—Ahsoka doesn’t know what’s his and what’s from her own knuckles. She looks at the guard and he releases him. Anakin stumbles back and up, heads outstretched in front of him. He wipes his face, clearing as much of the blood as he can and his lightsaber is ignited a shaky breath later. Obi-Wan might be saying something at last, but it’s lost as Ahsoka bounds toward Anakin. She lets instinct and primal, brutal fury take over. Their sabers clash.

Later, when Ahsoka has cried and screamed and torn apart her new quarters on Coruscant, she won’t remember what happened. All of a sudden, she’s towering over Anakin, both their lightsabers gone. She’s mildly surprised when she realizes she was actually able to best him, then scolds herself for not having faith in her new teachings. A swift kick to Anakin’s ribs leaves him gasping, and Obi-Wan is definitely saying something, but Ahsoka knows she’s far from vindicated.

“Ahsoka, stop,” comes Anakin’s voice, strong as it is quiet. “Please. Listen.” His eyes are bright blue through the bruises, the blood, and Ahsoka has always folded first. She squeezes her eyes shut and stumbles away, tearing apart whatever vile emotions swarm her.

The Force is dark and stormy around her, suffocating, but powerful. It blocks out the pain, the grief, the failure Ahsoka feels, and she clings to it.

Anakin is standing, one hand clutching his ribs, when she looks up again. His hands are reaching for her. “I don’t know what happened, but whatever it is, we will fix it.”

Furious tears race down her face. “You can’t stop this!”

Ahsoka wants to scream. She wants to scream because this is hard, far harder than she’d expected. The Jedi are wrong, the Jedi are evil, she’s had more than enough experience to understand that. How many times has she heard their immeasurable list of crimes, how they abandoned their own principles and people, their own children. Words flicker through her memory. “The rift in the galaxy is not our fault.”

But Ahsoka has learned that it is.

Given the right circumstances, a little education, nudging (pressure—torture—part of her brain cries) by the right people (the wrong people—don’t you see, child?—this is all wrong) and here she is. And here they are.

And she has a score to settle.

Ahsoka grits her teeth, taloned nails cutting crescents in her palms.

There will be justice, there will be recompense, and by her hand.

She looks into the eyes of her old Master and it’s like looking into the past. There’s that sick feeling in her chest again and Ahsoka crushes it, pushing down until something shifts and then snaps, sharp shards of glass cleaving her ribcage.

Ahsoka raises one shaking arm and chokes him with the Force, his feet drifting off the ground, back pressed hard against the wall. Though she’s never done it herself, she’s seen it from Anakin plenty of times and Ahsoka now understands the fury he wields that’s always surprised her.

His hands scrabble against his throat, desperate stare pleading, trying to reach her.

Something burns her eyes. Her fist tightens. “You were supposed to be there!”

The words tear through her, ripping the already scarred air. Months of unsaid words choked back swell, clogging her throat, and she can barely breathe past the broken syllables. With another yell that scrapes her insides raw, she throws Anakin down on the other side of the room. They both gasp for breath. Obi-Wan has stopped talking.

Anakin pushes himself up on a shaking arm, eyes darting straight to Ahsoka’s crumbling facade. Salt stings her lips.

The guard—Ahsoka thinks his name is Double—shoves Obi-Wan down beside Anakin, and his bound hands immediately go to Anakin’s trembling shoulder. Mumbled questions fall from his tongue, panic twisting his tone. Anakin’s eyes never leave Ahsoka’s.

“You were supposed to be there.”

The words are quiet, rough, homesick notes barely speaking through her tears.

Obi-Wan’s head whips over his shoulder, grey eyes too hard to read, and Ahsoka decides he’s never looked at her with anything but ice.

Hell has frozen over and so have they.

Anakin is openly crying, his gaze melted into waves of sorrow meeting Ahsoka’s gold-eyed shore. Obi-Wan has always been a glacier. Icicles prick his cheeks.

Biting rage sears Ahsoka’s chest. She doesn’t care what it takes; she’ll burn this Temple to ash just to feel the thaw.

Injured as he is, angry as she is, Anakin is too easily thrown when Ahsoka coaxes the Force to her will. Obi-Wan reaches for him, helpless, his hands useless under those cuffs. Anakin flies back, his shoulder clipping the side of the hole in the wall, and he tumbles off the edge. Ahsoka rushes forward, for a moment scared she’s killed him, but his hand—his metal hand—is digging into the rim of the hole, just barely holding on. The metal creaks.

It’s not a far drop, not enough to kill him anyway, and Ahsoka doesn’t know if she’s disappointed or relieved. She tries to be disappointed. Rain beats down against his face, but his eyes are bright blue when they look up at her.

She sees his lips move, hears the faint notes of his voice—something like I’m sorry, something like please—but the clouds scream over whatever he’s trying to say. Ahsoka looks away. Something is on fire out there, even in the storm, and the horizon is darkened by smoke.

“Ahsoka.”

Her head automatically jerks down to meet his imploring gaze. That sorrow again, that guilt, worst of all, that hope. Both halves of her howl with the roaring rain.

“I’m here now.”

You were supposed to be there.

“I’m here.”

Ahsoka can’t tell what’s rain and what’s tears on Anakin’s face, can’t tell the same on her own. She looks behind her at Obi-Wan, for reasons she doesn’t bother to understand, and sees him struggling against the guard harder than ever. She wonders what he would do if he was free, almost calls for his release just to see.

But she has already spent too long here, made too many mistakes. The weak part of her has grown louder, and she needs time to smother it completely.

Ahsoka looks down at Anakin again, salty tears biting through her gritted teeth. She calls her lightsaber to her hand, hovering it just next to his face, barely searing the edge of his skin. The red glow makes him look dead already.

“I could do it.”

Then she tears herself away, turning into the shadowed warmth of the Dark Side.

It’s a disappointment, it’s a failure, it’s a relief drowned by wrath at having allowed these parts of her past to live. Obi-Wan shudders to his feet, bleary eyes panicked as he rushes to Anakin, Double and Cross now dutifully following Ahsoka out. There’s sounds of struggle, movement, shifting robes. Ahsoka can almost picture Obi-Wan’s strong grip, Anakin hauling himself back up into the Temple, hair sopping, water pooling down around them. It’ll stain the stone. If it survives that long.

By the time Anakin pulls trembling limbs up, his mind still shaking off frigid rain, raw betrayal, chilling hurt, Ahsoka is already gone.

#fiona speaks #HEHEHEHEHEHE #ALL I KNOW IS ANGST #thank you for the ask jas!!!!#i hope you like it!!!#this was very fun to write mwahahahaha #disaster lineage #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #proofreading this was just me going yikes....YIKES #ASDJKSDA;LASJK #my writing #answered #jas tag!#and thank you to katie for the guard name assistance akdjajfka very much appreciated!!#i’m not totally happy with this one but yeah!

23 notes · View notes

whump-town · 3 years

Text

Maybe Time Running Out Is A Gift

Very much so inspired by "If We Were Vampires" by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

Hotchniss— just domestic bliss and no catch

There’s something about these nights, the summer nights that sit thick with humidity that seems to draw him that much closer to her. They have mingled enough that it wouldn’t be the first time he got his sweat all over her-- he is but a dorky man at the end of the day and deprives a twisted joy out of coming into their home wet with the sweat from working outside and wrapping her up in his arms so she has to feel it. He’d done it just today after seeing her poking about the house in jean overalls and an old sports bra. Had known the rush of mischief he’d felt when she groaned and tried to get away when he grabbed her. She’d thought they were far too old for these antics, it’s clear he doesn’t agree. Which is a rich thought coming from someone who waited until he was pinned under the sink to tickle his sides so he couldn’t escape.

The air conditioner hums away as it tries to overpower the Virginia heat and the windows Aaron insisted they leave open for the slight draft. She’s not sure why she caved to his argument because now he’s the one swaddled in his blankets, tucked up against her, and she’s sweating her ass off. It’s in moments like these that she’s reminded of that fury she harbored upon their first meeting. Of the stubborn as all hell man whose desk she’d stretched across to shake his hand only for him to meet her eyes and purposely get her college wrong. He’d admitted this years ago, a shameful blush creeping up his neck as he retold his thought process. Of the joy, he’d gotten out of her annoyance and she’d whacked him with the closest magazine she could find being reminded of just how easily he has always managed to get into her head.

That man that day has been many things over the course of their lives. Her enemy, the man she was hired to take down. For a while, she’d thought about it. He was a hateful man and she a spiteful woman-- the perfect mix of misery to see that in one another and exacerbate it exponentially. Then a mystery, an enigma she looked at like the most fascinating puzzle and, despite her best attempts, had begun to like. Somehow they stumbled into acquaintances until it was him she wanted to tell her shitty jokes to and him she wanted to wait for to go get drinks. To sitting beside his unconscious body in the ICU, listening to his labored breathing and wondering if this would end if for him. How much will he give before it becomes too much?

Now he’s the man drooling on her shoulder, whose arm over her hips is comforting and familiar. She wants to shake her head at him, to complain about how clingy he is, but she knows she’s lucky. The men of her past are horrible and they make a little drool seem like nothing at all. Her father was emotionally manipulative, never raised a hand but sometimes he threw words like the crack of a belt. She could feel their sting on her cheek. There was John, just a little older than her, but enrapturing with his cigarettes and free will. He’d used her and abandoned her when their actions had created a life neither would survive. How many between then and Ian? She can’t even remember them all. The other girls used to call her a whore but she had no concept of her own body. Just that she liked the attention of men and the only way to keep that attention was sex. It worked with every man she ever met.

Except for Aaron.

She can remember the flood of embarrassment she’d felt the first time she tried to stick her hand down his pants. The way their casual kissing had gotten a little heated and he’d stopped her, gently rubbing her hand as he pulled it away from his belt. “Slow,” he’d reminded her and she’d blushed but he’d soothed that too. Reminded her he just has to be sure if not for their jobs then for Jack because he’s not exactly given set a great standard for dating. He’d kissed her again, cupping her cheek, and turned his attention back to the movie. She still remembers the shock of that. Of him. The way he kissed and touched her like every single second she allowed him close was something he cherished. She doesn’t think anyone’s really touched her like that. As if they meant it.

Now she’s stuck with him.

Despite the grown man laying all over her and the heat of the room, she manages to fall asleep. Somewhere between his soft snoring and thinking about the garden and the flowers he’s left on their porch still in their containers.

When she wakes he’s not in bed. The early morning has not brought on the wrath of mid-day’s heat, leaving the air conditioner to power on and her to shiver under the blankets without him there to wrap himself around her. She lays there for a few more moments before her left hip starts to ache from the position and she realizes that she has to get up to stretch and pee. In motion, there’s no point in crawling back into bed. Not unless she can convince Aaron to come back for a nap later.

She pulls on an old pair of his sweatpants before venturing out to him. He’s full of all the same old habits so she knows exactly where he is. “Good morning,” she greets, stepping out on the porch. He’s surrounded by children, sparring her only a glance as he looks up from his apple cutting. This is an everyday sort of thing. Every morning at seven he greets the neighbor’s children on their porch, bringing with him three apples or oranges to divide between himself and the children as they wait for the bus. She’s wordlessly passed an apple slice.

“So,” she asks, taking a seat on the porch swing and smiling as one of the kids climbs up after her. “How are we doing this morning? Ready for school?” Most of the kids are elementary schoolers so they cheer with big gap-toothed grins around the slices of apple Aaron’s supplied them. They have only one high schooler, a seventeen-year-old who simply winces around his apple. She doesn’t miss it. “Have you gotten any of those college applications in back yet?”

Aaron looks up, hand stilling to wait for an answer.

Arthur, the boy in question, averts their gaze to swallow thickly and admit, “I-- I don’t know.” He bites into his apple, kicking at the concrete corner of the edge of the porch. Anything to avoid them, to pull the attention back away from him. “Don’t want to look.”

She should have known, he’s placed the whole porch between them and him. She hums, “why can’t you check them?” She knows he’s got other things to tend to which is probably how he’s been able to put off checking the applications as long as he has. Melancholy hits her a little hard as she recalls the last time she and Aaron had to help an anxious to the point of anger teenager through the thorns and thickets of college application papers. Jack hadn’t been very happy about all the paperwork either. Smart as a whip but dissolving to the point of tears by the pure amount of information he needed to fill in until he’d give up with an angry wipe of his face and the soft admission “I don’t understand it”. It had all been worth the tears of joy and Aaron’s near heart attack at his son’s sudden shout when he’d gotten them back. He’d taken his laptop back to his room, needed to be alone just in case they came back bad.

Of course, they hadn’t.

Arthur glances at Aaron before swallowing and shrugging. “Dunno,” he mumbles.

The bus is his saving grace and he wastes no time throwing his bookbag over his shoulder and offering a quick wave before tearing off for it. The other children bounce about as Aaron splits the rest of the apple in his hand between them. “Arthur!” he shouts, watching between the knife in his hand and the teen now coming to a staggering halt. “Just check the applications, huh? I’m sure you got into all of them. They’d be fools not to take you.” Aaron’s already looking back down, mumbling something with a smile to the others before sending them off. Never sees the way Arthur looks back at him, stunned in silence until one of his sisters smacks into him and jolts him back to Earth.

Emily observes Aaron for a moment, watches him pop the last sliver of apple in his mouth before wiping the blade of his pocket knife off on his jeans. Observing the blade for a moment before shaking his head and muttering, “damn things dull again.” He meets her gaze, oblivious to her thoughts, and shows her. “I think I need a new one.”

She could care less about his stupid pocket knife-- especially when she knows he’s had that one for longer than she’s known him and he won’t get a new one. She’s lost thinking about how old they are. How the two of them have surpassed every joke they made in their pasts about dying too soon, too young. They’ve raised Jack and have somehow made it to the age where she realizes, that they’re at the grandparenting age. Something she hadn’t even thought about until seeing Aaron just now. His baggy old sweater and the ease he has with being around children that would be the perfect age to look as if they were his own grandchildren and suddenly she yearns to see him with them. To see Jack become a father and to be able to see that light in Aaron’s eyes.

And, well, maybe she’d like a son or daughter-in-law out of Jack too and grandkids. A woman can dream… when was the last time she even got to hold a baby?

“Coffee?” Aaron asks, standing from his rocking chair and offering her hand. She nods and takes it, wincing at the chill of his skin. It reminds her that Thursday he has two doctor’s appointments both of which he’ll hate, not that he likes any of them, but he really hates the meeting with the orthopedics who push at his sore hips and want to check every square inch of his body. All for the same old thing. A higher dosage of the medication he takes for his shitty vascular system and the threat that if he doesn’t start taking care of his right hip better with the exercises they advise he’ll be hobbling about with a cane by the end of the year.

But they always say that. He’d rather just take the cane and call it a day.

Meanwhile, she gets by with her obscene amounts of coffee. Her hip is always hurting but she never does anything about it and her doctors praise her for excellent health and great blood pressure and just everything. It drives him crazy.

He makes the coffee while she’s puttering about the house, two cups made the exact same way. The way she likes because he already knows he’ll get halfway through this cup, like he always does, before leaving it to entertain some random thought he’s had. Which means he’s leaving it for her to finish and he also really likes the ratio of creamer that she prefers and it’s a good reason to indulge in all the silly little fancy additions he can make to it.

She takes the mug he offers with a smile, sipping the too-hot liquid before it cooled enough and sucking in a breath through her teeth with a wince. The same mistake every day, she never learns. “Will you get those flowers off my porch?” she asks. She pulls the sliding glass door to their backyard open, stepping out and knowing he’s right on her heels. “They’re going to die if you don’t get them into the ground.”

Last week or maybe Monday they’d gone out to Lowe’s to get her lumber for a bookshelf. He’d wandered off while she found what wood she wanted and what stain she thought would go best. She was not surprised when he came back grinning and told her about the flowers he’d loaded into the cart. She’d only half-listened as the Lowe’s guys put the wood in the back of the truck but the point is there will be lots of yellows and purples and, she can only remember one of the names because he’d particularly excited about these, orange black-eyed susan vines. Which are all sitting on the front porch waiting for him.

He grunts.

“And make sure you put sunblock on your neck,” she adds, sneaking a smirk his way. The last time he’d been gardening he’d taken off his hat and burnt the hell out of the back of his neck. Was miserable for days because of it and, naturally, all his groaning became her problem.

He squints his eyes at her but says nothing. He’ll remember the sunblock this time.

They separate off into their tasks for the day.

She leaves him on the back porch with a kiss to the temple and rustle of his hair, off to find her copy of the “The Illustrated Man” wherever she left it last. She’ll take it out to the hammock between the trees in their backyard so she can watch him as she takes breaks from reading. He’s already brought his flowers around when she gets back out, standing there looking all kinds of confused as he scratches his head absently as he thinks. Eyes darting around the dirt as he comes up with how he wants to plant the flowers.

“We can get mulch Thursday after your doctor’s appointment,” she says as she passes, patting his butt as does so. He’s lost the sweater stripped down to his worn jeans and a thin white t-shirt. He grunts at her suggestion both as a yes and a wordless complaint at being reminded of his doctor’s appointment.

It doesn’t take him long to figure out where he wants things and she watches him get to it. She’s certainly had her fun picking at him for filling his retirement with something so typically feminine as planting flowers but she thinks it’s terribly sweet. She loves just how proud he is of his little garden and every year he talks about planting vegetables too. The man’s got a hell of a green thumb, he could do it.

With a hum, she stretches out in the hammock and makes a mental note to ask Morgan if he knows anything about vegetable gardens. If they can get him over here to pull the ground up she’s certain Aaron would have something down in the dirt as soon as he could. Wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t already have the seeds ready.

The kids would love that. She smirks into her book, satisfied with herself. It’s settled then, she decides. She’ll call Morgan and get Reid to help them find vegetables that are in season. They’ll love that.

It’s the perfect beginning to her day and with any luck, it’ll stay that way.

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

63 notes · View notes

the-sympathetic-villain · 3 years

Note

U!patton and Remus for the Remus prompt. my friend and I had an idea where Patton forces Remus to wear a muzzle so he can’t talk

Okay, I don't know how to write short prompts so I went a little overboard on this. I also threw in some protective Janus just for fun. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! <3

Pure Thoughts

Description: Remus makes his way over to the light side of the Mindscape to patch up his relationship with Virgil, but he doesn't quite make it to his friend.

Characters: Remus, Patton, Janus, Virgil and Logan Mentioned Pairings: Platonic Dukeciet Word Count: 3256 Warnings: Remus-Type Content (Sexual Innuendo, Somewhat Graphic Descriptions, Etc), Threats, Attempted Erasing of a Side, Swearing, Death mention, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, Unsympathetic Patton (Let me know if I missed anything!)

---

Remus poked his head into the dim, empty corridor of the mindscape, pausing to check for the other sides before tiptoeing around the corner. Any other night, he'd be making his way down the hall with cymbals on the feet and a kazoo in his mouth, but tonight was the night to be covert. For once, he was actually trying not to be noticed, and notably, he was succeeding. Which was as perfectly satisfying as his pet eldritch demon's tentacle slime, because the last time he'd made one of his more spectacular entrances in their shared spaces, the Microsoft Nerd™ had nearly blown a gasket.

He'd lectured Remus for nearly forty-five minutes about ‘optimal sleep schedules’ and ‘the importance of brushing your teeth’ or whatever the dork had been saying. Quite frankly, Remus hadn't been listening. Learning from his mistakes wasn't exactly his jam, and if nerdy Wolverine’s brain was too full of Crofter’s to have realized that, that seemed like a him problem.

Besides, that was the past. Right now, the future seemed so much juicer. His fabulously favorite emo had eased up on his prickly sarcasm enough to give him a chance to talk things out, and as ambivalent as he may pretend to be, he wasn’t going to pass on the opportunity to make amends with his old friend. He wanted to salvage any small piece of their damaged relationship, so here he was, sneaking into the light sides' half of the mindscape to duke it out with his anxious nightmare.

The only challenge left was passing the other light sides’ rooms. Virgil's room of course had of course moved to the farthest corner of their space, making it the most difficult to reach without being noticed. Of course, he could make it easy if he cut across the common room. That way, he'd miss Roman’s room entirely and the only one he'd have to worry about was—

“Hey, kiddo.”

Remus head spun on his shoulder to the sound of Patton’s voice. The usually friendly father figure's familiar voice filled the room with a soft kind of seriousness that sent shivers down Remus' spine. The chill in Patton's voice was new and unsettling, but still, Remus cracked a cocky grin as he stared into the shadows and waited for Patton's lecture. After a moment, the lamp on the far side of the room clicked on to reveal a seriously scary looking frown on Patton’s face. Remus straightened upright as a tingling of fear crept up his arms. The creep factor of the amber lighting alone would have put Remus' own efforts to shame, but this was Patton.

Pun-loving, puppy cuddling Patton.

Patty boy’s harmless.

Right?

Remus swallowed nervously before summoning up his usual carefree front and staggering across the soft carpet. “Hey, Padre. Sorry, if you were looking for a late night suck, but I'm actually in a bit of a hurry. Maybe later—”

“Language, Remus.”

Remus stalled at the coldness in Patton’s tone. He licked his lips. The hostility in the air was nearly palpable as Remus stared across the room, trying to get a gauge on this new side Patton. It wasn't often one of the other sides left Remus speechless, but he was unsure of how to react to such an open display of hostility, especially from the side whose entire being was rigged toward being nurturing. Oh, well. There wasn't much else for him to do and he was on a schedule tonight. Remus let out a breath, falling back on familiar habits as an attempt to cover his exit. “Don't get your panties in a bunch, Patty daddy. I know you’re not the type blow and go without a sticky emotional mess, but you don’t have to worry—”

“You’re not going, Remus.”

Remus’ grin faltered at the finality in Patton’s voice, biting his lip as he eyed the direction of Virgil's room. “Um, what?”

“Virgil’s been doing so good.” Patton growled as he rose to his feet. Remus' feet felt like lead holding him in place while Patton moved to block his way. “I finally got my kiddo realizing how toxic you are to him and I’m not going to let you play with him anymore.”

Remus' mustache twitched with displeasure at the insinuation, though a part of him wasn't denying Patton's brusque statement. “Listen, Pattycake. As well as you play the daddy dom role, Virgil asked for me to come and I don’t see where this is your business, so I'll just be—"

“Virgil needs help knowing what's good for him.” Patton continued as a deep hatred started to burn in his eyes. “and that isn't you, Remus.”

Remus brushed him off, starting towards the door. He'd only made it a few steps before Patton waved his hand the door disappeared. Defensiveness turned to frustration as he reeled on Patton. “You can't just—”

“Go back to the whole where you belong before force you into your place.”

Remus froze as Patton's stomp connected with the ground, sending a shiver across his skin as the particles of his body destabilized. A choking breath caught in his throat and his hands shot to his chest in a manic frenzy as his body solidified again. He glanced up at the dangerous sparkle in Patton's eye. Remus was alive for now, but he got the feeling Patton wasn’t done with him yet.

“Hold on, Pat. Let's talk about this—” A bead of sweat dripped down Remus temple as he began stepping away from the door. His hands lingered in the air as he tried to reason with Patton. “—I thought we were good. The human pocket protector told you it was best to play nice with me. I get you don't like me, and it don’t have to be an orgy or nothing, but you can't just piss all over the nerd's hypoth—”

“Shut up.”

Remus sucked in a sharp breath as a black, leather muzzle appeared over his face. The leather molded to his skin as his hands shot to his face in a sudden manic moment of fear. Desperately, he pulled at the leather with all the force he could muster as the glowing rage in Patton’s eyes slowly backed him into a corner.

“I'm sick of you bullying Logan and dragging Virgil down.” The lights in the room flickered as Patton cried out and shoved Remus to the ground. “I don't care what Thomas says or Logan thinks. You don’t deserve to stay. Thomas is better off without you."

Remus hesitated. His hands lingered on the muzzle as his eyes flitted the door back to his own room. He knew he could retreat to his own room, but the idea of letting Virgil think he’d stood him up gave him pause. The choice was made for him a moment later when Patton’s power vibrated in the air and Remus let out a muffled cry as he felt his being wavering. The particles of his body began to weaken and fade as his resistance crumbled. He was unable to push back or even speak as Patton started to force him into the subconscious.

“Virgil will be disappointed when he realizes you forgot about him,” Patton whispered as Remus tipped his head up to meet the horrifying smile spread across Patton's face. “but he'll understand once you’re gone. I'll make sure he knows how bad you really are.”

Panic shot to Remus’ heart as he clutched at his fading body, choking as the muzzle as it grew tighter on his lips.

“I should have put that muzzle on you years ago." Patton’s laugh cracked in his ear. “Your silence is music to my ears. Finally, we can be good. Thomas can be good without you hear to ruin—"

“Is everything okay in here?”

Remus let out a heaving breath as his body hit the ground. He clutched his hands to his body, feeling around to make sure he was still fully there as Patton's grip loosened on him.

“Mind your own business, Janus.”

“Remus is my business. You made it clear years ago that he is my responsibility.” A flicker of worry flashed over Janus' eyes as Remus glanced up to him, but his gaze remained cold and distant as he maintained eye contact with Patton. “In fact, I think I'll be taking him now.”

Remus fingers raised to his lips as Patton’s muzzle fell away at Janus’ snap. His body was numb as Janus moved between him and Patton, extending a hand down to him. Remus swayed, staring at the fury in Patton's eyes as Janus pulled him to his feet.

“You have no right—”

“I think you'll find that I'm quite within my rights to do as I please.” Janus muttered as he absently brushed the dust from Remus’ shirt and shot a deathly glare at Patton. "but if you want to test that theory, I have no problem getting Thomas involved.”

Patton growled his discontent as Janus stepped forward to shield Remus from Patton's gaze. The silence hung over them, weighing heavy on Remus' shaking body, until the air shifted and Patton took a step back. “Keep him away from Virgil or I may not be so forgiving next time.”

“Don’t worry. You've won this battle, Morality, but I hope you know that Virgil will start to question your iron grip on him eventually. I taught him better than to simply follow others.” Janus muttered bitterly. His head bowed in reluctant acceptance of Patton's good grace, though his voice remained rebellious as their eyes remained locked together. “ He will not accept your word on blind faith.”

“Virgil will learn not to question me when he realizes how toxic you are to him. He can be molded into something better, unlike the cretin you're using so much of your dwindling energy to protect.” Patton spat as he turned to the door. “Now, go back to your hole before I change my mind."

“Remus, go.” Janus shoved him to the door.

“But—”

“For once in your life, don’t argue with me.” Janus muttered as he guided the shell-shocked Remus back to the dark sides' hallway. His voice dropped after a few steps and he glanced down at Remus. “Not a single word until he can't hear us. Got it?”

Remus nodded, still numb as Janus dragged him toward his own room. He could hear Janus’ breathing become heavy as he guided Remus through the narrowing hallways with an unnatural speed, not stopping until they reached Remus' black door at the end of the hallway.

“Jan—”

“Not yet, Re.” Janus whispered as he cast one last suspicious glance down the empty hallway before shoving Remus inside the narrow door frame.

“Janus, what the h—”

Remus' diatribe was knocked out of him as Janus' body slammed into his chest. He froze as Janus' arms curled around him, unsure of how to process the man's tight grip. He tensed, ready to struggle when he realized Janus was actually hugging him.

“Are you hurt?”

“What? No—” Remus whispered. His body went limp as released him enough to look him up and down. “I'm—I'm fine, Jan.”

“I'm going kill that self-righteous bastard.” Janus seethed. His grip on Remus' shoulders tightened as he stared past Remus to the closed door. “How dare he threaten you—”

“Janus—”

“—and especially when you were actually working to make things right with Virgil—"

“I don’t—” Remus blinked as Janus' words registered in his mind. "Wait, how did you know that's what I was—"

“I mean, where does he even get off thinking he can control Virgil's life without his input anyway?" Janus growled, gesturing abruptly to the door. "Virgil isn’t some helpless child. He’s able to make his own decisions—"

“Am I on fucking mute or something?”

“—and you!” Janus spat, gesturing towards the Remus. Remus immediately flinched at Janus' anger, though he wasn’t sure what he'd done to deserve the lying side's ire. “He could have killed you—”

"What?" Remus flailed as Janus grabbed the collar of his shirt like a disobedient child. “Hey, that's not fair! I didn’t know that Pattoncake was secretly a sadist—”

“You should have been more careful—"

Remus' head reeled as Janus spun him around, but he managed to stifle his nausea long enough to shout at Janus. “Jan—For fuck's sake, either fuck me or take my head off your fucking chopping block—”

Janus blinked, finally taking in Remus' red face as he swayed uneasily in Janus' grip. “What?”

"Listen, I like it rough and all but if I knew that you could manhandle me like that—" Remus blinked blearily as Janus loosened his grip. "Fuck the possibilities are endless, but—"

"Remus, I'm really not in the mood for your games tonight—"

“I'm not playing—Just ignore all of that. I needed to get your attention because you wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. ” Remus muttered, waving his hands as he found his bearings. “Jan, you—you frickin' saved me.”

"Now is the time you decide to censor yourself?"

"I'm trying to give you a compliment, Janus." Remus cut him off with a wave of his arms. "Hello, I wasn't expecting to become a damsel in distress but you make a hell of a knight in shining armor to have actually stepped in to save me.

“Of course, I saved you." Janus muttered after a moment, dipping his head in embarrassment. "I felt Patton’s emotions start to well up. I knew he was going to cause trouble and I wasn't about to leave you to his mercy.”

“What so you mean you felt him?” Remus mouth dropped in confusion.

Janus shrugged as his gaze dropped to the ground, still agitated. “I feel a lot of things Patton does.”

“But why?” Remus growled angrily as Janus clammed up. "Just spit it out already, Jan—"

“Because he's Thomas’ biggest lie.” Janus blurted out without thinking, gesturing to the door.

“What?” Remus whispered as he watched Janus begin to pace the room.

“The source of Thomas’ morality is corrupt.” Janus yelled, though he was quickly losing steam. “Not Thomas himself. God, not Thomas. But his insistence on clinging to his purity complex and thinking he can please everyone if he just tries hard enough—It's the most insidious evil that's ever taken root in him.

Remus went quiet as Janus explained and everything suddenly began to click into place.

“Thomas can't just turn his attention away from every reality he doesn't like.” Janus shrugged as he looked up at Remus. “Trying to eliminate anything uncomfortable or unpleasant in his life is a slippery slope to much more dangerous ideas.”

“Okay,sure, but this is still happy pappy, sunshine-coming-out-of-his-ass Patton. You sure you don't got a screw loose in that big brain of yours?” Remus managed to blurt out in exasperation. The scene had just played out before his own eyes, but he couldn't help that his brain turned to fuzz every time he attempted to process it. “Ya know? Maybe, we’re in a some sort of shared delusion. I mean, I know he's cute and all but now's not the time to think with your other head—”

"Remus," Janus let out an exasperated sigh as he glared at Remus. “I know you can’t help it but I would strongly prefer you think before you speak, like a normal person—”

“But, Jan. Come on—"

“His perceived innocence is part of the ruse, Remus. Why do you think Thomas' Logic is blind to his actions?” Janus muttered as his voice became nearly manic. "Why do you think his Creativity fawns over him and his Anxiety is soothed by him?"

Remus giggled as the human side of Janus' face became a brilliant shade of red. "Couldn't just be that he's just more personable than you, Janus?"

"Remus, I swear I'll strangle you myself—"

“Ya know, it's not often I'm the one fighting to talk over you.” Remus interrupted as he giggled and leaned into Janus' fury with a crooked grin. “If I knew you'd get all hot and bothered by Patty getting rough with me, I would’ve shoved my—"

“If you value your life, you will not finish that thought.” Janus muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “This is serious, Remus. You—You could have died.”

“Everything’s always serious, Jan-Jan. You should give yourself a break.” Remus grinned, gesturing up and down at himself. "Do I look dead to you?"

“I know, but—”

Remus' grin widened as he rambled. “I mean, I've got a plan for when the heart attack kills you and all, but I'm not like dying to use it.”

“That's not the—Wait, you do?”

“Well, yeah. I wouldn't let you go out without a bang." Remus' grin widened as Janus turned up him curiously. "Figured I'd have some fun with it and put your head under someone’s covers. It’s very Godfather-esque.”

“Huh—" Janus leaned back, suddenly contemplative to Remus' proposal. "To whom would you do this?”

“Well, not Pattycake anymore.” Remus laughed, patting Janus on the back. “Maybe, Roman though. He needs good jolt every once in a while.”

“He certainly could stand to come down a few notches on his ego.” Janus sighed, rolling his eyes. He paused, finally taking a breath as he stared at Remus unfaltering smile. “I have no idea how you're managing to stay calm after what just happened."

“Well, that's easy." Remus purred with cocky smile as he leaned into Janus. “I got my big, bad protector here with me.”

"I got lucky, Remus." Janus huffed. “If I hadn't have been paying attention to Patton's power flaring up, you would've—”

“Whatever, you felt that Patty boy was about to turn me to dust and you showed up.” Remus brushed off Janus' excuses. “That means something, Jan—Means a lot to me actually.”

Janus blinked as he looked up to the suddenly serious expression on Remus' face.

“The deadly dad freaked me out and I have to admit he had me kinda buying the story that I'm not that great of an influence on Virgil—” Remus sighed as he let his grin dropped away. “— or Thomas even, but I figure if you saved me, I can’t actually be all bad.”

“You’re not bad, Remus.”

“Yeah, well, even I need a reminder of that every once in a while.” Remus smiled. He shifted on his feet as he looked up at Janus. “So, thanks.”

“Anytime, Re.” Janus smirked at Remus' sincere smile. "I've always got your back."

“I know you do.” Remus breathed with a worried glance back at his door. “Saving me might have been the easy part though, Jan. Patton didn't seem like he was gonna let our Stormy Nightmare go.”

“Virgil will see through his lies,” Janus breathed as tasted the air. “The power's shifting and he can't hold me back forever. We aren't going down without a fight, and once Thomas sees his true nature, the game's over for Morality.”

“Well, better get cracking then,” Remus grinned. “before Patton finishes brainwashing 'em all.”

Janus nodded with a glance at the wall as a sudden chill ran up his spine. He could feel someone watching, but he supposed it didn’t matter. There was no turning back now. “Yes, Remus. I think it’s time to start pushing back.”

---

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts remus #ts patton #ts janus #unsympathetic patton #platonic dukeceit #remus centric #Pure Thoughts #villain writes

51 notes · View notes

atsukashii · 4 years

Text

❝back again❞ // k. bakugou

SYNOPSIS: ➛ When pro hero ground zero destroys your shop trying to take down a villain, you don’t hesitate to curse him out. What you don’t expect though, is for him to come back again the next day.

» CHARACTER PAIRING: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

» WORD COUNT: 5K cause I have no self control

» GENRE: pro-hero!katsuki, aged up characters

» WARNINGS: swearing of course, fluff, fluff, and oop surprise more fluff,

» PROMPT: lilac - “if you don’t kiss me right this second i swear”

« masterlist || ao3 »

Anonymous: can i get uuuuhh ‘lilas’ with pretty boy katsuki 🥺💕💕

a/n: hell yes you can! I went a bit overboard with this request but I hope you love it! Also i’m running off the non-canon idea that Katsuki’s hero name is Ground Zero here.

Pro Hero Ground-Zero is an asshole. He’s an attractive one, but an asshole nonetheless. The explosive blonde was the hero on patrol this morning, when a villain decided to attack some old lady in the middle of the street. Ground Zero fought the villain and left behind a crater in his wake. One you are currently staring at, steam almost coming out of your ears. Because that crater consisted of half of your flower shop.

Are you fucking kidding me? You hear the news reporters behind you, talking to their cameramen about what went down on this normally quiet street.

“This morning, Pro Hero Ground Zero successfully defeated a villain known to police as ‘FrostBite’. The villain has been responsible for many civilian attacks recently, he’s been linked to a heist just three days ago, which saw the criminals get away with over fourteen thousand…” You tune out the reporter's voice as you step back into your shop, through the gaping hole that was once your front exterior wall. Great, this is so fucking what I needed right now, you think.

This whole shit fest is the icing on an already bad cupcake. It started when a woman had come into the store just last week, complaining about your goods. Which caused such a ruckus that an inspector was called, only for him to find some bullshit excuse that had stopped you from selling coffee’s in your hybrid cafe/flower shop momentarily. Add on top of that the fact that you are currently in your final semester of university and you’re about to sit your final exams in literally three days. The word stressed does not even come close to describing your inner turmoil right now.

“-and here he is now! Ground Zero! Can you give us any information about what happened today?” The reporter asks.

“A villain got what he fucking deserved, the end.” A deep voice says from behind you, and you just know it’s him. Clenching your fists, you resist the urge to turn around and scream at the man. What about what you deserved? You look around your store once more and stifle a whimper at all the damage; crumbling walls, plants scattered across the floor, pots shattered and your precious neon sign. Broken. You kneel down and pick up the now dull yellow neon light and feel your eyes begin to sting. This shop had been your dream since you were a little girl, and now it was torn apart by a villain.

“I do my job, and I do it well. Write that in your fucking paper.” The hero reiterates again. Pure fury floods your brain until you are seeing red. Spinning around, your eyes focus onto the battered hero and the flawless reporter, and suddenly, all you want to do is scream. Your mouth begins moving before your brain can follow and say it's a bad idea.

“You do your job well?!” You hiss at them. Everyone’s attention moves from the asshole hero to you, your apron covered in dirt and rubble from when your front wall crumbled right in front of you, because a villain was physically thrown through it.

“You destroyed my store!” Ground Zero’s face flushes red in anger as he stares at you with his scarlet eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you could maybe appreciate how handsome he is, but currently you can see too much damage - expensive damage - to even think like that.

“That villain was a threat to society, he got what he deserved. You should be thanking me, you damn extra!”

“Thanking you? You left a DAMN HOLE IN MY FUCKING STORE!” You scream at Ground Zero. “And what about what I deserve? I don’t deserve to have to pay for all of these fucking damages that you caused!” The anger seeps out of you as you look at the small crowd around your store, gawking at you. You can’t imagine that this is a normal response for heroes to get from civilians. What a mess…

“Y/n!” A voice interrupts the crowd and you look to the right where someone is pushing through the mass of people slowly, to get into the store. The second your best friend & work colleague see’s the damage, she lets out a sad sigh and looks your way.

“Oh sweety…” you hold up your hand, making them stop from walking in.

“There’s broken glass everywhere. Let me clean up first,” You whisper, suddenly ashamed of your outburst. Ground Zero had been doing a civil duty, and you’d just jumped on his case about the damage he caused? Good one y/n, real smooth. Turning your back on the hero and the crowd, you weave around smashed pots and dead plants, reaching behind the counter for the broom you keep there and begin to sweep up the mess. You can hear the group begin to disperse, but can’t get rid of the feeling that someone is watching you. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes lock onto the vermilion gaze of the upcoming hero, known for his brash attitude towards reporters. Your breath catches in your throat as his intense stare seems to look into you more deeply than anyone ever has. Like he’s analysing your very being and everything about you. You shift away from him, grabbing the plastic rubbish bags you leave next to the till for the frequent mishaps that happen in your store, and you get to cleaning.

What a mess.

❀ ❀ ❀

For the past two nights since your shop was damaged, you’ve been crashing with your best friend who deemed it unsafe for you to stay at your apartment located above the partially destroyed store. You didn’t have the energy to argue against them at the time, so now as you walk down the main street towards your shop, you’re thinking about how strange it is that you need to travel to get to work. At least it's a sunny day, so surely this has to mean something good... You hope.

But as you round the corner convenience store on your block, you stop in your tracks. In front of your pathetically boarded up store, stands a tall man in black jeans and a matching jumper, the hood pulled up over his head. Because that’s not suspicious at all. Unfortunately, he’s leaning up against your front door, so you’re going to have to at least ask him to move.

“Uh, excuse me?” His head whips towards you, and your gaze immediately locks onto the ash blonde hair that peeks out from under the hood, and the matching eyebrows partially hidden by his dark sunglasses. It’s him, Ground Zero. Here. At my store. You don’t have the drive like you did the other day to be mad, so instead you keep walking towards your store with a raised eyebrow aimed at the pro hero.

“Shouldn’t you be patrolling somewhere Ground Zero?” You ask the man as you approach. He shifts away from the door, but doesn’t move far, allowing you to use your keys to unlock it. Not that locking the door would do anything to deter intruders considering there’s a fucking hole where the almost floor to ceiling windows once stood.

“It’s my day off.” Now that you’re not overcome with rage towards the man, you can appreciate the deep tone to his voice. One so alluring it sends chills down your spine. Do not go there, seriously y/n. No, it doesn't matter that you’re not mad, he’s still an ass.

“Good for you.” You mutter, before stepping through the doorway. You had cleaned up a lot of the debris from the room over the past two days, but the council wouldn’t let you begin working on the wall until today, as they had to deem it still structurally sound before you went around doing things. Hopefully, if all went well, you would have the shop open again in less than two weeks.

You notice that the further you walk into Daisy Chains, the hero follows. You place your bag on the till and round to face him, leaning your weight against the wooden counter.

“Are you here to mug me or something?” What use did a pro hero have to you? What use did he have coming here either?

“I’m a fucking hero dumbass, its literally my job to detain people who do that.” He growls, his vermilion gaze forming a scowl that really shouldn’t be attractive on him, but somehow is.

“Well how am I supposed to know? First, you damage my shop, then show up in all black, glaring at me and following me into an empty store?” You challenge, meeting his intense glare straight on. If he thinks he’s intimidating you like this, well he’s right. But, you’re not going to let him know that.

“I’m here to help.” His voice echoes throughout the dead quiet store. For a moment, all you can do is blink at the somewhat stranger. He lets out a growl at you that has you steeling your spine.

“You kick up such a fuss about your fucking store, then what? Don’t want help when it's handed to you?” Ground Zero barks at you, bringing you out of your stupor.

“I’m just surprised is all.” Your honesty makes him pause. “But if you’re serious, I’ll take the offer. It wouldn’t hurt to have another set of hands.” You’re not an idiot, you know you’ve got a lot of work to do in order to get the shop back up and running, and considering you’re not the only employee here and it's your livelihood, you need it up and running as soon as possible.

“The contractor says it's going to take about two weeks.” You comment.

“Then we’ll do it in one. I’ve only got a few days off, so we need to get this done soon.” Ground Zero replies with a blank expression, before getting up off his spot of leaning against the wall. You can’t help but admire his determination, especially to fix something he may have helped cause. A lot of hero’s you know wouldn’t even have bothered to come back for this, it was just another ‘ casualty of the job’. But for some reason Ground Zero did, and you weren’t about to look the gift horse in the mouth.

“If i’m going to have a stranger help me out for the next couple of days, don’t I have the right to know their name?” You ask, walking forward towards him. He straightens up at your approaching figure - as if going on the defensive, and you notice as you come to a stop that he’s quite a bit taller than you. His nose would touch your forehead if he bent forward, no wonder he wasn’t intimidated by me when you yelled at him the other day.

“Y/n Y/l/n, proud owner of Daisy Chains.” Sticking out your hand, Ground Zero looks between your eyes and your hand for a moment before reaching forward and gripping it.

“Katsuki Bakugou, also known as Ground Zero.” He introduces, shaking your hand. You can’t help but notice how calloused it is compared to your own. Well he literally works with his hands due to that explosive quirk of his.

“Katsuki Bakugou…” You breathe, testing the words out on your tongue. You glare half-heartedly at Katsuki, “I still don’t like you.” You finish, pulling your hand away from the blonde. He huffs at you and scowls.

“The feelings fucking mutual. Let’s get this shit done.” Katsuki orders, pushing up the sleeves of his hooded jumper and walks over to the boarded up wall, grabbing a hammer as he moves. He’s definitely determined, that's for sure. One however, can also describe Katsuki as elegant. You observe the way that he moves; every motion fluid with a sort of grace you wouldn’t have pinned with someone like him. He yanks of his hood as he begins to pull the nails out of the wooden beams. Strong too. Unfortunately, his sweater hides his defined biceps that you know are there due to seeing him the other day in his hero costume and you - nope, stop right there. Shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts, you reach over to the tool kit your best friend brought over for you to borrow and follow Katsuki’s lead and begin ripping down the wood.

With two sets of hands, things get done much faster than you had originally thought it would. You had ripped out the hastily put up wood, and began to demolish the rest of the damaged structure like the contractors had marked out for you. Due to being too poor to afford builders, you had planned to do the whole thing yourself, so as much as you hated to admit it, Katsuki’s presence was actually a major help. Not like you’d tell him that anyways. By the time it was five thirty that evening, you had already begun to put up the interior wall structure. Katsuki somehow knew what the hell he was doing, and barely had to look at the tips the contractor wrote down for you. When you had questioned him, he’d just barked at you to mind your own dang business, and proceeded to pout like a child for the next hour. Some of your neighbours had brought some temporary fencing to put across the front of the store to try and stop people from getting in during the day - and you had thanked them profusely as they waved it off. Because you were only twenty one, the owners of the shops either side of you had taken you under their wings so to speak. The old lady who ran the bakery next door often ‘made too much’ bread and gave some to you, and you in response 'accidentally ordered too many of her favourite roses’ so they’d go to waste if she didn’t take them. And when they’d seen Katsuki, he’d just huffed and managed to find something to do on the opposite side of the store. He’s a strange one that Ground Zero.

As the sky kept darkening, you look from the star speckled darkness slowly settling outside to your watch and decide to call it a day. Reaching over your head, you groan as your muscles pull tightly and ache from all the labour.

“I think we should call it a day Katsuki.” You yawn, looking over to the blonde who has already started to pack up the tools. He glances at you when he’s done, and dusts his hands on his black jeans.

“I’ll be here tomorrow at eight. Don’t be fucking late or I’ll break in the door to get in.” Katsuki promises, before pushing out said door.

“I won’t pay for that damage!” You call after him, watching as his shoulders tense in annoyance at your words. Holding in your laugh, you observe as he pulls his hood over his head and stalks down the street, slipping into the shadows like he’s made of them. You let out a sigh and lean back against the counter, suddenly feeling much more optimistic about your store and its progress now that Katsuki’s helping.

He definitely is a strange one.

For the next three days, your progress clicks like clockwork. Arriving at eight am and leaving at seven when it gets too dark and you’re both too tired to do much more, the store is slowly coming back together. Last night, you’d even ordered take out and actually had a civilised meal together. Sitting on the floor of Daisy Chains, you’d both eaten gyūdon, conversing in innocent small talk whilst you gaped at the hot sauce that Katsuki kept adding to his food. He had smirked at your expression, which then resulted in a two hour Q&A with pro hero Ground Zero. Where you learnt that he absolutely loves spicy food, likes mountain climbing of all things, and can actually cook - which you only learnt because he called the food bland and was offended when you sassed saying that he couldn’t do any better. Apparently, he can. It was a weird experience, getting to know Katsuki as someone other than Ground Zero, Pro Hero destined to be number one - his words of course. It was actually… Nice, talking to him. Your heart jumped around inside your chest like an overexcited child in those moments, just getting to know him and seeing his lips tick up ever so slightly for the first time at a joke you cracked. And you need your heart to stop. You have no reason to feel like this, if anything you should be mad. No, you think. He’s using his days off, things he’s mentioned that he rarely gets, to help you fix something that - yes, he caused damage to, but could have just left alone.

You let out a sigh at your confused thoughts and dip the paintbrush back into the bucket on the floor. Your feelings towards the confident blonde are perplexing at best. Yet, as you look around the nearly completed store, and the painting you have left to do, you couldn’t help but want him there. Sure, you argue - a lot, but you also really enjoy his company. And no, it wasn’t because around midday every day, he’d shed his jumper and you’d be graced with toned muscles bulging out of his tank singlet.

Except he had mentioned to you last night that he wasn't coming in today because he was back on patrol. It’s fine really, you have managed to get a lot done today anyways, as a lot of the heavy lifting had already been finished earlier this week. You had given the new wall a coat of primer after the window installation guys had come in and done their job on the brand spanking new windows that made your bank account cry. Having them back in and the wall officially closed in, you were also finally able to move back into your apartment upstairs and off your friends couch, which was a massive relief.

Dipping your brush back into the paint, you look at the rest of the wall that has to be done. You had decided earlier that you may as well give the rest of the store a bit of a face lift whilst you were at it. Half of it was completed when you had to take a break before you gassed yourself with the paint fumes. Deciding to leave the back door open and turn on the fan, that usually is only made use of in the summertime to attempt to decontaminate the air, but the store still reeked of paint fumes. So you settled on keeping the front door open using a cinder block. It was working, gradually.

Slowly, the sun set behind the skyscrapers and you are still painting. Letting out a yawn, you carefully paint around the edge of the window frame, trying not to either touch the tape you had previously put down or let any drip onto the paint cloth on the floor. You are so focused on the task that you don’t notice someone has walked into the store until they speak.

“You shouldn’t leave the front door open like that dumbass, some creeper is going to take that as an opportunity to come in.” You let out a terrified scream and the paintbrush flies out of your hand and onto the floor. Placing a hand to your chest to slow your thundering heart, you look to Katsuki who's standing in the middle of the store, arms crossed on his chest, his usual glare ever so intensely settled on you, and still dressed in his hero costume. Good gracious.

“I thought you had patrol?” you ask, not moving an inch. It feels like forever since you’ve seen him in his hero costume, and somehow it looks even better then it did the first time you saw him in it. But your opinion may be biased seeing as you’ve unfortunately found yourself thinking of the hero constantly recently. He’s grown on you, like an annoyingly attractive fungus you can’t seem to get rid of.

“Just finished up. Thought I would come over here and see how slowly you’ve been going.” He smirks. You almost choke on your saliva as you look at his ticked up lips. Is he… Teasing me right now?

“Slow? I’ll have you know that i’m moving much faster today than I have with your help Mr Pro Hero.” You sass, picking up the brush and moving to continue on the wall.

“Obviously, that's why you're still going at this time.” You know he’s only trying to rile you up, but you can’t stop yourself from shooting him a playful glare over your shoulder at him But as you move, you find him no longer standing there. Katsuki’s fishing behind your front counter for something, and you’re about to ask what he’s looking for before he walks towards you, a paintbrush in hand. You blink at him as he stands next to you, dips the new brush in the paint and begins to pick up where you left off.

Your brain can’t seem to comprehend that he’s here, when he said he was super busy, in his hero costume, helping you paint. You’re unsure as to how long you’ve been standing there staring at him for, until Katsuki looks at you with a frown.

“You better not start fucking slacking now dumbass. I didn’t come here to do it all for you.” He says with a small smile and god what the hell is going on right now? Your cheeks suddenly feel hot and you don’t need to touch them or look in a mirror to know that you’re blushing. Hurriedly, you scramble for your thrown paintbrush, reaching down to the pastel blue liquid that almost looks white and begin to paint.

The radio plays softly in the background, the only source of noise in the store, and you find yourself bopping your head with the music as you work. Suddenly, when your favourite song comes on, you make a mad scramble to the machine and turn it up loudly, ignoring Katsuki’s protests. Dancing as you walk back to the wall, he’s glaring at you but there's no anger in it. Somehow over the past few days, you’ve managed to finally crack the code that is Katsuki Bakugou, and understand the many meanings of his scowls, glares and unfriendly remarks. And now, as you’re singing along to the song and shuffling towards him with a dorkish grin, he’s one hundred percent amused at your antics. Katsuki doesn’t dance along, or even bop his head, but you can see him mouthing the words ever so slightly, and that's enough. As the last chorus hits, you scream the words out loud, which earns a loud bark of laughter from Katsuki. Mid verse, the climax of your performance, you stop to watch it happen. You know you’ve said things he’s found funny before, because his mouth shifts upwards ever so slightly, followed by him calling you an idiot and turning away. But seeing him laugh, a proper laugh that starts in the belly and spreads happiness through every pore of your body and into those around you, it was so attractive to you. The soft smile he sent you after too was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. For a man normally so harsh and with sharp as fuck features, the gentle look he gave you made your stomach somersault.

The song was forgotten as you forced yourself to keep on painting until you finally finished. Looking at the clock behind the counter, you smother a yawn as you read the time. 11:16pm.

Finally, it was all coming together. With only the radio making noise, you and Katsuki tidy up your tools once more and you walk him to the door. He raises an eyebrow as you lean up against the glass door.

“I moved back upstairs today, so no more couch surfing for me.” You answer his silent question.

“That’s good, I was sick of having to walk you all the way back to your friends place.” Katsuki replies, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He was smart enough to bring a change of clothes with him tonight to change into once he’d dropped blue paint onto his costume and realised that it wasn’t the wisest idea to wear it. So now, he was back in his casual black getup, in the sweater that a part of you so wanted to steal.

“Hey, no one ever asked you to do that, thank you very much.” Scoffing at your words, Katsuki shifts his weight from one leg to another.

“You’d have never made it there without me.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night Mr Pro Hero.” Standing in silence, you suddenly can’t bring yourself to look at him and instead look back inside the store. “Hopefully I’ll have this place open again in a few days,” You say out of nowhere, simply feeling the need to break the silence.

“That’s good. I might have to come around and actually buy something.” Snapping your head back towards him, you flush from head to toe. Is he flirting with me? You asked yourself...surely not… Why would someone like him flirt with someone like me? But you can’t help but hope that he is.

“If you come around here for any other reason other than to buy something, I swear to god Katsuki.”

“Any other reason?” He challenges, taking a step closer. Your back is pressing into the glass door behind you as your eyes lock onto his scarlet ones. “What if I have a perfectly valid reason?”

“Does it include breaking things?” You breathe, his face so close now that you can feel his exhale fan across your mouth. Oh my god.

“Not breaking, just stealing something.” He’s whispering, as if speaking too loudly would scare you away like a timid animal. Your heart is about to burst from your chest with anticipation. He’s going to kiss me, he's sooo going to kiss me. And you so want him to.

“You’re going to steal some plants Katsu? That's a bit lame. I thought you were some big shot.” His eyes flicker to life with something you can’t quite place. Teasingly, he looks down at your lips and you swear to god.

“Hey,” he drawls, “don’t go judging me now y/n.” his hand comes up to your face and brushes a strand of your hair away from your eyes. “Do you give everyone else shit like this after they’ve done you a favour, sweetheart?”

“Katsuki.” You all but groan, letting logic fly out the door and gripping the front of his sweater. “If you don’t kiss me right this second, I swear-” He doesn’t even let you finish the sentence before he’s cradling your jaw in his hands and crashing your lips together. The two of you collide with such force it knocks the air right from your lungs. Katsuki completely dominates the kiss, which has shocks running down your spine and into the tips of your toes every second it continues. He possesses your very being and you can’t do anything but hold onto him and return it with everything you have in you. Reluctantly, Katsuki pulls away from you, but continues to hold your face captive within his grasp.

“I-uh…” your brain is no longer functioning and sits with the same potential of goo inside your skull. Smirking at your response, pride swirls inside Katsuki’s eyes.

“Got nothing to say now dumbass?” He jokes, releasing a cheek to brush hair out of your eyes again. You’re pretty sure there's paint in it.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” You manage to ask, deciding that you never want to do anything other than kiss him every day for the rest of your life. This time, Katsuki doesn’t laugh at you, or even smirk. His smug grin morphs into something so soft and rare that you doubt many have ever seen this look on him, and even fewer ever will.

“Only if you agree to go out with me.” Katsuki states. Of course he wouldn’t ask like a regular person. He’s Katsuki fucking Bakugou, pro hero and future number one if he gets his way. He doesn’t have time to beat around the bush.

“It’s almost midnight Katsu.” You point out, which makes him laugh.

“I didn’t mean right now dumbass.”

“Oh.” You feel yourself blush bright bright red, mortified you try to pull your head out of his hands purely out of embarrassment. But Katsuki quickly moves his hands from your face until he’s pulled you tightly against him, your chest flush against his torso, your head craned up to look at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” he utter’s before leaning in and kissing you again, this time softly and chastely, so different from the desperate kiss earlier. Suddenly, you’re so glad he exploded into your lift and ruined your shop that day. “You’re getting dinner with me tomorrow night.” He mumbles against your lips.

“Do I have a choice?” You ask, your fingers weaving through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. You feel him smile a feral grin against your lips and try to hold in a smile of your own.

“No.”

“Good, wouldn’t want it any other way Katsu.”

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #katsuki x reader #flower prompt #requests #bnha x reader #bakugou one shot #katsuki bakugou imagine

516 notes · View notes

melancholymaz · 4 years

Text

Enceinte (3)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Now at 16 weeks in your pregnancy, The avengers have been taking the Uncle and Aunty role with pride, With your nursery being built and painted. But it’s game night and what better way to do that than have the avengers have a sleepover?

Warnings: Sad!Nat turns into Soft!Nat and couldn’t help but end it in domestic!Avengers. Swearing and Bucky and Steve cheating at Uno. Also talks of parents disowning their child.

Y/S/P = Your sexual preference

A/N: Here’s part 3! I am so deeply sorry it’s taken this long! Enjoy!

Deciding to live in the compound while pregnant has been both a blessing and a curse. Unfortunately with your parents having disowned you when you came out as Y/S/P, you didn’t have very many people to tell, besides a few friends and cousins, To which they were ecstatic.

The positives are that Nat doesn’t miss a thing as her and the team have decided to only go on missions unless necessary. So now they can be there for milestones or help if you ever need it. Even Carol has decided to stay until her niece or nephew is born. You and Natasha have both been reading pregnancy and baby books and even Tony had the two of you sleep in a spare room temporarily as him and the team combine your room with the vacant one next door for the baby’s nursery which is now ready to decorate. In about 3 weeks you’ll be having your gender reveal, as you and Nat had agreed you were far too excited to wait to see if your baby was a boy or a girl. Despite it being your first pregnancy, Your 16 week baby bump was very much noticeable, and now you didn’t look like you ate too much the night before, like you did when your bump was first starting to grow.

You’ve been keeping as active as you could, doing mild workouts during the day to keep as fit as you can. You’ve noticed your skin has become a bit more clearer, as the ‘pregnancy glow’ makes it’s mark. Sometimes you’ll have random blood noses, which is normal as Dr Cho had to convince Nat a hundred times, but it didn’t make them any less annoying. Warm baths and back massages had become your best friend as your bump starts to grow, If your back pain is bad now you dread the pain that is to come. You’ll even become dizzy at random points during the day, and it’s handy having the avengers around to easily catch you if you start to sway.

You’ve started wearing maternity clothes, to which Nat loves. Your choice in bras have become different thanks to your ever growing breasts, and she loves finding new ways to take them off as fast as she can. The only thing she loves to pout about is the fact you’ve started sleeping on your left side, as now it’s rare she gets to see your face as you both lay in bed together. That doesn’t stop her from rubbing and talking to the baby every night though.

Finishing up in the gym for the day, you wipe your forehead to rid the sweat and take a swig from your drink bottle, taking a breather before you say goodbye to Steve and Bucky who are both training together. Making your way to Your’s and Nat’s bedroom, you pass Wanda and Carol in the hallway, who asks you how you were feeling and if you needed anything, much to your gratitude.

As you enter your room you immediately notice somethings wrong. You hear a sniffle before a soft cry, and you notice it’s coming from the nursery. A frown settles on your face as you walk in and you can’t help the feeling of your heartbreaking a little. There Nat sit’s in the middle of the empty room crying, staring up at the half finished Winnie the pooh themed wall mural Steve has started, making sure to leave a spot blank to paint the baby’s name when you and Nat have decided on one.

“Babe? What’s the matter?” You ask, slowly coming up behind her, placing your hands on her shoulders, softly peering at her face. Her puffy eyes look up at you and she gives you a small sad smile. “I thought I was the one that was supposed to be emotional.”

“I’m sorry, I just came in here to see the mural but then I couldn’t help but think how surreal all of this is. I mean I never would have thought 2 years ago that you’d be my girlfriend much less pregnant with our first child. I mean all my life I thought I’d never have kids much less a partner. I used to have nothing, and now I’ve got this job... and this, family that couldn’t love us any more.”

“It does seem a bit crazy doesn’t it.” You say softly, lightly massaging her shoulders as she lets a few more tears fall. You know the best thing right now is to just comfort her and let her have her moment.

“I am so incredibly lucky to have the team, and you, and especially our baby. Everything I’ve ever wanted right here and I don’t know how or why I deserve it.”

“To be quite honest with you my love I think we’re the lucky ones. To have someone so loving and forgiving like you is definitely rare. Beans going to have the most protective and playful mama, and I think I can speak for the team when I say there’s no one that could ever replace you. You deserve all of this, The team, the family and most importantly me and our baby.” You tell her honestly, placing her hand on your bump.

“You think so?” She asks with so much uncertainness.

“I know so.” You smile, to which she returns.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Nat replies, the soft smile on her face as she looks up at you.

“Yeah, multiple times.” You smile. “Now come on, we’re gonna go have a shower and go see the team, It’s game night.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“This game is bullshit!” Sam screams, slamming his uno cards on the table before standing up and kicking his chair. “He’s cheating!! There is no way he can win game 5 times in a row!! He just picked up 4 cards!”

“Stop being a sore loser.” A smug Bucky says, taking joy in his friends rage.

“Stand up and clean out your pockets.” You demand, also annoyed at your friend. Bucky does as you say with a smug smile on his face, pulling his pockets from his shorts and jumper, proving he didn’t cheat. When he sit’s down however, you catch something in the corner of your eye and you shake your head with scoff when Steve subtly high fives Bucky under the table. Nat must have seen it to, because she too shakes her head and speaks up.

“Steven, my lovely captain.” Natasha says albeit too sweetly.

“Yes Nat?” He replies, probably too quickly to come off as nonchalant.

“Would you like to stand up and empty your pockets too?” I finish instead, smiling at the blonde who looks at Bucky then stands and does the same, which ends in him pulling out roughly 10 cards from his sweatpants pocket.

“Are those Bucky’s Cards?” Wanda asks, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“...no?” Steve replies. “They’re mine?”

“Steve is that or is it not Bucky’s cards?” Carol asks this time, her face stern, which you know is making Steve slightly panic. You see Bucky staring at Steve, almost daring him to lag on him.

“Okay fine. Buck and I made a deal that I would help him win because he always loses and he’s sick of Sam and Y/N always winning.” Steve confesses ashamedly, Bucky’s eyes widening in betrayal.

“I KNEW IT!!” Sam yells. Nat just stares dumbfounded, meanwhile Tony, Rhodey and Bruce just watch things unfold shaking their head in disappointment, Wanda and Carol stand up and start packing up the Uno cards as they both know no one will want to play after this. You, however, stare at Bucky with betrayal and hurt.

“You always say you want me to win! This is discrimination against pregnant women.” You joke, to which Nat laughs behind you.

“I think he wanted you to win so the baby will be named after him.” Rhodey inputs.

“Definitely won’t be now.” You say to which Bucky frowns. “Sorry pal lost your chance.”

“What-”

“Yeah because we all know the baby’s gonna be named after me.” Tony interrupts Bucky, pouring himself a drink at the bar.

“Jokes on all of you, we’re not naming the baby after any of you.” Nat replies, smiling matter-of-factly after nearly everyone looks at her offended. “You all suck.”

“Besides me.” Carol says, sticking her hand up.

“No definitely you.” Is Rhodey’s reply, causing Carol to throw the uno cards at him. Everyone begins to move into the common room, deciding to chill before someone picks a movie.

“Speaking of the baby, what’s the update?” Steve walks in, handing Wanda the chip bowl, who thanks him quietly.

“Well, Bean should be starting to hear sounds now hopefully, muscles are getting stronger and should be having coordinated arm and leg movement.” You explain, the team listening attentively.

“And Bean is now the size of an apple!” Natasha quickly adds.

“Seriously can’t wait to be an uncle.” Tony says, scratching his greying goatee. “How are you wanting to do the gender reveal?”

“Well so far it’s just gonna be all of us, Pete, Clint and his family, Fury, Sharon and Maria. Thor too if he’s back in time from Asgard. We’ll get Dr. Cho to put the respective colour in a big balloon and we’ll have like mini games and just have a fun time with all of us.” Nat explains. The team nods, and you can see Tony’s gears in his head rolling, probably just promoted himself the event planner.

“There is to be no one invited without our permission.” You direct to Tony, who just nods.

Just an hour later you and the team have all set up mattresses and blankets all over the common room, deciding to have a sleepover all together. Bruce and Rhodey as an exception as they believe they’re “too old” to have sleepovers. You and Nat set up on the end of all the mattresses, in case need to go toilet during the night. You’re surprised everyone agreed to do it, considering they’re the earths mightiest heroes.

As the end credits of the fourth movie rolls around, you look around to see everyone but you and Nat have fallen asleep. You move back down and start to wiggle around to find a comfortable spot, but end up failing miserably.

“You okay babe?” Nat asks, lightly rubbing your back after you groan for the third time.

“Just can’t seem to get comfortable.” You mumble back, trying to fall asleep.

“Would you like me to go get your new pregnancy pillow?” She asks laying her head on your shoulder, to which you nod softly. Nat gives you a kiss on the cheek before she stands and steps over you to go get your pillow from your shared room. When she comes back a few minutes later, she helps you position yourself and when you finally find a comfortable spot, you can’t help but sigh in relief.

“Thank you my love.” You mumble, already drifting off.

“Go to sleep Malysh, I’ll try to not keep you awake while I say goodnight to Bean.” Nat whispers, already moving down to talk to your bump. You hum in goodnight before you drift off into a deep slumber.

Malysh = Baby

#natasha romanoff x reader #imagine natasha romanoff #black widow #natasharomanoff #natasha x reader #Natasharomanoff x fem!reader #avengers x pregnant!reader #avengers fluff #avengers x reader #avengers x y/n

286 notes · View notes

headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne · 4 years

Text

Bloodborne Chain Game

The first chain has been completed! The original prompt has been the following:

Eileen or Djura's thoughts and feelings after they have decided to leave the Hunter's Dream. Please look at the completed art and fics under the cut and be sure to check the writers/artists out:

@thefatladysang The moon rises, silvery light dancing upon the field blanketed in white flowers below. Its surface is cracked and pierced by the bare branches of the great tree as it reaches futilely towards the night sky. A soft breeze whispers through the field, sighing between the hundreds of graves that line the hazy edges of the pasture. From elsewhere in the dream, a gate creaks open and a woman in a feathered coat and beaked mask strides through, boots clicking on the cobblestones. She halts at the base of the great tree and looks upwards at the man in the chair. He wheels around, faces her, and a warm smile splits his aged face.

“Welcome, Eileen.” If the woman smiles beneath her mask, she doesn’t show it. Her voice is hard and clear as she answers.

“The little doll told me you were waiting for me, Gehrman.” Her voice, normally clear and tuneful, is turned harsh by some kind of agitation. The man in the chair nods and doesn’t drop his grin.

“You’ve been dreaming for quite a while my dear. Your strength and skills have become quite sharp and I’ve yet to see another Hunter of your caliber.” He replies as serenely as though the two were discussing the weather. Eileen moves closer to him, remains stoic and silent beneath her mask. Gehrman pauses and tilts his head. The smile drops from his face, but there is no admonishment in his gaze, no judgement, only curiosity. “Yet you seem almost reluctant to hunt the beasts themselves…” Eileen stops her stride, now level with Gehrman’s chair. She towers over him and briefly, she wonders why she feels so unnerved by little more than an elderly man confined to a wheelchair. She shrugs, tries to make it look nonchalant and uncaring.

“What does it matter? You’ve others who can pick them off.”

“But what drew you to hunt the others down in the first place, Eileen?” Even though Gehrman’s voice is still as gentle as a parent scolding a child, Eileen finds her jaw clenching slightly. It’s not due to shame or embarrassment of any form. She does not regret the actions she took back then. She’s positive she made the right choice.

“Beasts are beasts.” She replies in a clipped tone. “Once the plague gets to them, they’re little more than animals acting on nothing other than instinct. The Hunters though...” For a moment, Eileen remembers finding corpses of men, women and even children. Always they’d been torn apart yet Eileen could tell which ones fell to claws and teeth and which ones fell to blades. She remembers the baying and howling echoing through the streets of Yharnam, mixing with the high, mad laughter until the sounds blended into a single cacophony. She remembers a time when the feeling of teeth and claws tearing into her with animalistic fury was distinct from the feeling of a saw or axe ripping her apart and she remembers when that dissimilarity grew smaller and smaller until she could no longer tell them apart. Oh yes. Eileen remembers it all and she has to clasp her arms to keep her hands from shaking. She’s seen the beasts that threaten to overrun Yharnam. She’s also seen the slower, quieter beasts; the ones that hid and gnawed the hearts of men: waiting, watching, biding their time until the tiniest spark, the slightest provocation, set them loose to ravage the world and all those with the misfortune to cross their path. She’s seen it, bore witness to it, and the question still eats away at her, even when she squares her shoulders and answers Gehrman’s quizzical stare.

“When the Hunters go mad, whose responsibility is it to see them dealt with?” She expects admonishment, or perhaps a cold, displeased silence. Instead, the smile returns to Gehrman’s face, somehow wider and more brilliant than it had been before as though she’d said exactly what he wanted to hear. He shifts the blanket slightly and draws a short blade from beneath the folds. In all honesty, Eileen’s not certain what she should make of this new weapon. For one, the blade of the sword is thin, twisting, and it almost looks as though it had been forged as two separate pieces of metal that had then been stuck together. For another, it’s small, practically tiny next to the other weapons she’s seen at the workshop so far. There’s no trace of serration on the blades, or anything that would suggest a lengthening mechanism in sight. Such a thing would be ineffective against the beasts; no way it could tear through the hides or muscles of the creatures. Against the soft flesh of a human being however…

“I suppose such a burden would fall to you.” And with that, Gerhman extends his arm, offering the small, lethal looking blade. “This dream is meant for those who hunt the beasts, not other Hunters. For you, the night is nearing its end. And now, I will show you mercy.” Eileen pauses at this, fingers extended, about to take the blade from Gerhman’s hands.

“Mercy?” He brings his hands and the weapon back into his lap as his smile takes on a melancholic, almost rueful color.

“You will awake beneath the morning sun, freed from this terrible Hunter’s Dream.” He answers. “Free to flee Yharnam and seek out a peaceful existence elsewhere, if you so desire. Or, perhaps, you would prefer to pursue beasts truly befitting the Hunter of Hunters.” He tilts his head yet again, keeps his hands in his lap and awaits her answer. “Do you accept?” The blade in Gehrman’s lap glints in the bright light of the moon as though echoing his question. She wants to accept. She can’t see why she *shouldn’t* accept such an offer. *freed from this terrible dream,* he’d said. Freed from the dream.

If she was free from the dream, then…

If she could no longer dream, then…

“If I no longer dream, I won’t be able to return here should I perish, will I.” It’s only for a moment, but Gehrman falters slightly, as though he hadn’t expected her to catch on to that. When he opens his mouth, close to a minute later, Eileen nearly expects a lie or a half truth. Instead, he replies with frank honesty. “No. You will not return.” He leans forward, eyes piercing her. “But you will forget. The horror remains, burned into your memory, but even that fades. Should you flee Yharnam, you will come to regard the events of the night as little more than a bad dream after a time.” Little more than a bad dream. That almost sounded like the worst outcome to Eileen. If she forgot, if she could no longer dream, what would become of her mission? Her ideals? If she was to hunt the other Hunters, why would she want to leave the city?

“And should I remain in Yharnam?” Her own words give her pause; if she remained in Yharnam, not in the Dream, but in the city itself. Across from her, Gehrman answers. “Then the dream and the horror will forever haunt your memories until the end of your days.” He leans back slightly and the moonlight catches on the blades once again, throwing silver sharply into Eileen's eyes. “The decision is yours alone, I will not begrudge you either way.” For a moment, his words tumble over her ears and she almost asks what would become of her if she refuses, if she desires to remain in the dream. However, something stays her tongue. Perhaps it's little more than disinterest in the answer. Perhaps it's because she's come to know Gehrman in the long night of the Hunt and she knows that this is his request disguised as a choice. For a moment, the two of them seem almost the same to Eileen; both offerers and dispatchers of a swift, merciful death. And with a small chill trickling down her spine, Eileen realizes what Gehrman intends to do to her if she refuses his mercy.

It matters not. She's already made her decision.

Eileen steps forward and reaches out to grasp the handle of the short blade in her hand. Gehrman makes no move to stop her. She turns and kneels, but does not bow her head. She is not ashamed, grief or regret does not weigh on her heart. From somewhere behind her, Eileen hears the sound of creaking wood, footsteps over the hard ground, and the metallic ringing of another, longer blade being drawn. Her gaze remains ahead, even as the scythe looms in the corner of her vision, even when Gehrman draws it back slowly, carefully, she grips the handle of her weapon and remains steady.

“Good luck, my keen Hunter.”

The scythe descends and the last thing Eileen sees of the dream is the immense moon hung high in the east above the field of white flowers.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Light flickers across Eileen's closed eyelids as a strange warmth envelops her limbs. She sits up, blinks the fog away from her eyes, and has to pause for a moment before realizing what she sees. It hadn't been moonlight earlier, it had been the sun. She can't quite recall the last time she'd seen it. Slowly, as though moving to greet an old friend, Eileen stands and is startled when a metallic clang sounds from the ground beside her. She looks down, sees the glare of sunlight glinting off the small sword that had fallen out of her lap when she stood. In the distance, the bells of Yharnam peal as the sun climbs higher in the sky after what felt like a long night and Eileen bends and clasps the grip of the little sword.

"What curious dreams…" @dragonbasket

@palepious As the sun descended on the sky, disappearing behind the tall towers of churches and snow covered tops of mountains as if wanting to averd it’s gaze from the slaughter to come and hiding away until it was over. The city was painted in bloody reds, as if it was already covered in blood and flames, really made one want to hide away, cover one's eyes and ears and pray for the nightmare to end. If Eileen had been someone else, she probably would have done the same, but alas nights like these were the time when she really came to life, her gruesome duty becoming ever so important. Who would her prey be tonight? Which one of her former comrades and friends would she have to cut down today for public good? Whatever that meant at this point, after all Yharnam was as decrepit as a city could ever become. To be honest she wouldn’t be surprised at this point if her former rival and then partner would appear out of the blue to say hello and possibly bury a few bullets in her. Yet creeping through the narrow and dirty streets was as natural to Eileen as breathing at this point, having spent so long chasing after prey in the dark, one learns the city’s layout pretty fast. The few Yharnamites that crossed her way were smart enough to scurry away after seeing her, prolonging their pitiful life for a little. Those poor sods could hardly be called humans at this point, with arms as hairy as a dogs and limbs that looked like crooked sticks that a child had glued the fallen hairs of the family dog to it… and that beautiful image paired with the smell of unwashed armpits and vomit. Just lovely. Eileen decided to walk her usual round for nights like these, stalking the streets of central Yharnam and slowly but surely closing in on the secret pathway into Cathedral ward. She could just use the great bridge, but it was too much open space and was probably inhabited by some large beast, which if possible she would very much like to avoid. Like death incarnate she swept through the alleys, vigilant and on the look for her prey - though it seemed like tonight might be calmer than she had anticipated aside from diseased and crazed Yharnamites she encountered barely anything that was worth her notice. Of course, she cut the unfortunate beasts down that decided that the raven clad woman would be it’s dinner. But she couldn’t help but think that it was too quiet for a night of the hunt. Of course the villagers screamed their curses at the church and burned some mutt like creature that hadn’t scurried away fast enough. But the telltale sounds of the hunt that she was used to were missing. Where were the heavy footsteps? The eardrum ripping sound of guns being fired at a rapid pace, blades ripping away at flesh and the pained screams of beasts. Were there no other hunters aside from her tonight? Nonsense, it must have been because the sun hadn’t even set yet. Yes, that must be why. Soon enough she would hear Gascoignes roaring and the squelching of a poor beast that made acquaintance with the business end of his axe or gun. She hummed along to the faint melody of a melody box that played faintly from a distance while making her way to the spot she usually stayed at until the night unfolded completely and her prey came undone truly for her to reap. The dogs threw themself against the rusty bars of their cages, barking and yapping at her to no avail. One day these mangy and sick mutts might break out and maul an unfortunate soul, Eileen thought to herself while skipping over some barrels disguising the entrance to the overlook of the main hall of the sewer hall. Almost completely turned Yharnamites growled up at her, but made no attempt to get to her. Which in the end was better for both parties, they could live until another hunter showed up and she didn’t have to bother. The smell of incense filled her nostrils after lighting the small lantern she had stored on the balcony like space between looming the houses, overlooking the canal that led to Cathedral Ward. The sun painted the sky such a beautiful red, she mused to herself, too bad not a sane unsoiled soul could admire the artwork that the sky had become at this hour. Well Eileen could but that was beside the point. A screech, that was in no way human, came from the great bridge and Eileen once again was glad she used this route. Yet some poor soul would have to take care of that beast, but alas once the moon would rise the hunters shouldn’t be far. Steps closing in on her tipped the huntress out of her musings, with the weight of the sound she expected to see Henryk, but alas it was a hunter she had never seen before. The clothes were terribly inappropriate for a night like this and clearly looked like those of an outsider. Which matched the confused look of horror on the hunters face, oh yes this poor soul had no idea what was going on and probably had questions running out of their ears. But they had come this far so they were a hunter, maybe even one sent by the moon… the thought made Eileen smile in pity under her mask. “Oh, a hunter, are ya? And an outsider?…” @maskofconfusion

@lordmarble Ever since the Good Hunter awoke to the nightmare here in Yharnam, they’ve had chills crawling up their spine, like writhing centipedes, injecting their terrorizing venom through goosebumps and making their blood run ice cold. It’s not the hunt. They’ve been handed a weapon, a firearm, and a cheat for death itself. No reason to be afraid of a beast, not with the bloodletting teeth of their Saw Cleaver, and especially not with the dream they’re tethered to. But something is wrong. Something is watching them, and every time they look over their shoulder, nothing but shadows. A few beasts have snuck up on them before, but this… this is different. Sinister, even. Everything the Good Hunter has encountered so far had murderous intent, so why is this so…? Pulling their foreign garb’s hood further over their face, masking the overwhelming stench of blood radiating around them, the Good Hunter makes their way towards the aqueduct, as Gilbert said to reach the Cathedral Ward. But an out of place window catches their eye, hidden behind boxes and barrels, and their curiosity lures them to rotting rafters that they have to tread lightly on. Below them, they can see beasts and giant rats lurking about, and so the Good Hunter chooses to only look ahead of themselves. The wood creaks with every step, groaning with age. They let out a huge sigh of relief when they reach a deck jutting out of the stone walls. They spot an entryway off to the side and hastily make their way there. A balcony is now within sight, and there stands a person; dressed entirely in a black Crowfeather garb that reaches to the ground. A white, beaked mask rests on their face, devoid of expression. The Good Hunter hesitates, reaching for their Saw Cleaver and waiting for this person to react. Neither of them make a move. The masked hunter turns their head towards the Good Hunter. They freeze up, that sinister crawling feeling from before comes back full swing, striking through their body in cold waves. Their heart pounds in their chest as they find themselves choked by their own adrenaline. They hold their hand over their chest, steadying their breath. The masked hunter speaks, her voice smooth, leveled, and foreign in accent, “Oh? A hunter, are you? And an outsider?” The Good Hunter jolts. They nod swiftly as they ease up a bit. For the most part, it seems that this feather-clad person means no harm… But why hasn’t that dreadful feeling lifted from the Good Hunter’s consciousness? The feather-clad hunter shakes her head, her arms crossed curtly. “What a mess you’ve been caught up in…” The Good Hunter catches a glint beneath the hunter’s garb. A shine of metal like no other. The Good Hunter stiffens, and then… “And tonight, of all nights.” They whip their head around, eyes wide with shock. All they see is a flash of black and white, and just barely they fall beneath the swing of a blood-soaked blade. Another flash of black rushes before them, and the clang of metal rings throughout the air, like a foreboding bell chimed by Death itself. The Crowfeather hunter has locked blades with this new hunter. A helmet covers his entire face and a silver ponytail flows out from behind. Like the Crowfeather hunter, he too wears the same garb, its softness contrasted by the sharp, angled armor covering his legs and arms. As quickly as the monochrome hunters reacted to each other, they stepped back and rushed at each other in the blink of an eye. The Good Hunter scrambles for the barrels strewn about and hides behind one of them. They peek out from behind the flimsy barrels, and not a peep escapes their throat. “How many times do I have to tell you, Bloody Crow,” The Crowfeather hunter says with a level voice, “you were only to hunt those who have gone mad!” She jumps aside, narrowly avoiding a gunshot from the new hunter. The hunter apparently named Bloody Crow laughs aloud, laced with malice. It sends more shivers down the Good Hunter’s spine. They’re so shaken in their boots that they overlook the ridiculous implication that his mother really named him Bloody Crow. The Bloody Crow slashes his blade and nicks his opponent’s mask, “Ha! Can you blame me for going after such easy prey, Eileen?!” The Good Hunter’s stomach twists in shame. They want to scream and say otherwise, but each strike makes them flinch. Eileen dashes around the Bloody Crow and stabs him in the back, but not before he retaliates by firing his pistol as he turns around. The bullet pierces her thigh and she stumbles backwards towards the entryway. She has no choice but to back up further to the rotting rafters as the Bloody Crow rushes her with a swift chop, feathers go flying as they’re cut free from Eileen’s garb. They float down to the sewers below and become indistinguishable from the muck. The Bloody Crow pulls the trigger and fires at Eileen’s feet. It blasts splinters into the air and causes the wood to snap beneath her weight. Just before the rafters collapse into the sewers below, Eileen leaps for one of the many chained corpses randomly hanging from the ceiling, and uses her momentum to swing onto a platform sticking out of the wall. The Bloody Crow is quick to react and fires away steps ahead of Eileen. This time, the bullet goes straight through her shin… and she falls. Eileen stabs her Blade of Mercy into the wood and hangs on for dear life. She struggles to climb back up, and the moment she gets her hand back on the platform, she hisses in pain as the Bloody Crow crushes her fingers with his heel. “Why are you doing this?” Eileen growls between her teeth, “I practically raised you. I taught you everything you know! All I ask is one thing from you and you can’t even do that!” The Bloody Crow kneels down. “Raised me? Everything I know? Wrong, and wrong again. Stop putting yourself on your foolish, imaginary pedestal of self importance!” Grinding his boot into her hand, he grumbles, “You only found me on the streets after I escaped the Executioners, as an adult, mind you. And you didn’t teach me how to use my blood arts either.” “You would have died out there if I didn’t take you in. And who taught you how to tread without a sound when you couldn’t sneak up on a beast!? Who taught you how to throw a goddamn knife with your trembling hands!?” Then Eileen’s gets low, venomous. “There’s a reason why your sorry arse ran away from your people who needed you most. You. Were. Weak.” Angered at her words, the Bloody Crow stands up and crushes his foot down with the force of a raging bull. He listens to the sound of her phalanges snapping and her scream ripping through her throat with glee. He stays silent to take in the noise for a moment, and then speaks low, almost dangerously calm. “I may have been weak before, but look at me now, thanks to you. And I am grateful for that, Eileen. Truly. But I don’t owe you shit.” “You don’t owe me shit?!” Eileen shouts and kicks her leg in an attempt to swing back up. “You would be dead if it weren’t for me, and now you betray me because you can’t hold back your damned bloodlust?! How dare you claim that you’re not weak anymore, when you only go after the weak yourself!” The Bloody Crow scoffs. “It’s fun to see the fear bubbling over in my prey. Besides. I never wanted to follow your path as some mindless slave, bound to only killing ‘mad’ hunters. You should have stuck to that foolish oath and killed me the moment you laid eyes on me. And look at what you’ve done because you felt sorry for a monster like me, now you’re dangling above some filthy sewers where you belong, like the pathetic piece of shit you are—!!!” A Saw Cleaver comes striking down at him from behind, bringing him crumbling to his knees. The Bloody Crow’s foot slid off Eileen’s hand, slick from the blood seeping from her gauntlet. The Good Hunter, through that killer instinct that was once locked away in their blood, thrusts their fist into the Bloody Crow’s back in one smooth motion. He gasps, “W-What…!?” A spray of crimson goes flying along with the Bloody Crow as the Good Hunter yanks their arm out of his chest. He’s thrown into the sewers many meters below by the sheer force of that visceral attack. A massive splash follows, and the malformed beasts below turn their heads in curiosity. Breathing heavily, shakily, the Good Hunter looks down at Eileen, offering her a hand. She gratefully accepts and is hoisted up with uneasy arms. “...That wasn’t necessary of you, but you have my thanks,” She says between heavy exhales, “We barely made it with our lives. You’re not bad at all…” The Good Hunter looks down at where the Bloody Crow fell. He’s gone, a trail of bloody footprints climbing up the sides of the aqueduct. She looks down as well and shakes her head. “I genuinely don’t think you’ll be able to take him on as you are right now, so forget about it. He’s more vicious than any beast you’ll ever fight. I would know.” The Good Hunter’s shoulders slump in defeat. They then point to Eileen’s hand and leg. She sighs, “Oh, these? Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse than a broken hand and a bullet in me.” Concern flashes in the Good Hunter’s eyes, then confusion as Eileen chuckles. “I’ll just take some blood for now, but I appreciate your compassion. That is not something I see in Yharnam anymore. But be careful, kind acts don’t always end well…” After hearing that heated argument between her and the Bloody Crow, they certainly believe that statement. The Good Hunter merely shrugs in response, though. They turn to drop down safely to the aqueduct, but Eileen speaks again. “Before you go, I must warn you not to go near the tomb below Oedon Chapel. Father Gascoigne, an old hunter, has gone mad with the beastly scourge. And he’s. My. Mark.” Something glints in the Good Hunter’s eyes. Brimming with a newfound confidence, they hop on down and make their way to Oedon tomb. Eileen reflexively reaches up to pinch the ridge of her brow in annoyance, but she forgets that she’s wearing a mask. She also forgets that her left hand has been shattered like porcelain. “Argh…” She clutches it tenderly before reaching into her pockets for a blood vial. Eileen limps back to the dock where she was loitering about earlier. She couldn’t let her pride crumble in front of that new hunter, even if they kindly offered her help. She slumps against the barrels, sighs, and tends to her stinging wounds. Taking off her mask for a breath of fresh air, she clears her mind and muses to herself. That hunter, although they were trembling in their boots, saved her and went on to where her next target is. And, they went alone, knowing that the monster she nurtured isn’t too far away. She worries for their safety, but that confidence the hunter walked away with puts her mind at ease. Perhaps they will survive this terrible nightmare, or perhaps they won’t. Either way, Eileen has a feeling this is not the last time they will see the new hunter.

#bloodborne #soulsborne chain game #bloodborne chain

30 notes · View notes

shineonyoucrazyyandere · 5 years

Note

Yo! Really love your works! Anyways, how would a Yandere Kars, Dio, Kira, and Diavolo be with a s/o that's friends with the good guys? (bonus if they too are yanderes)

Yandere! Kars, Dio, Kira, and Diavolo with an s/o that’s friends with the good guys ( A pinch of good side yandere, I kind of wanted to focus on the main villain but yandere characters are insinuated)

Also if anyone wants Diavolo just request away! I spent 4 hours on Dio, Kars, and Kira alone so I’m kind of wiped right now, I wasn’t expecting to write that much right away.

Yandere! Pt 1 Dio

He has had his eyes set on you even prior to turning himself vampiric. Every second before he turned he was inexplicably in your presence whenever you were with Jonathan. Merely listening onto your drivel with that so called mannerless man.

At any given opportunity he’d interrupt, and of course continually make Jonathan a fool of himself in front of his father. Occasionally that would leave you vulnerable with Jonathan having to attend to other duties due to his brutish incompetence. But perhaps you were a bit more on your toes than he realized, any hesitance you may have had around him the blond had picked up immediately.

He totally acts like this is normal during the period he was still human. He’ll even bring up nonchalant topics up with you. Beckoning you on for walks while just so happening to be in front of Mr. Joestar, his sharp use of his tongue is fairly convincing.

He kept track of every single interaction you had with Jonathan, whether it was running to him because of the blond himself. Or you sneaking onto the property to avoid his own gaze. Though he’d especially let you know he was privy to your attempts to avoid him. Just with a simple stare, or perhaps a passive aggressive remark over dinner.

When the point of his vampirism hits his personal obsession only worsens (especially if Jonathan starts showing particular signs of an unhealthy fixation) or any of his allies for that matter. He personally makes a visit to you when you have seemed to have purposely distanced yourself.

“Jonathan seems to be a little strange around you doesn’t he? What a frightening thought that acting against his own chivalrous intents with you-”

He pauses for a second gauging your expression, but a well worn smirk simply rises on his lips

“such a shame really when you always used to run to him...”

He’ll even rub in the fact anyone that works with Jonathan around you has met the same fate in their behavior.

Any sense of normalcy is quickly stolen from you and the blond will make sure it stays that way. Shall you run back to the men you tried to trust with your well-being? Though being honest he’ll find a way for you to fall in his clutches, especially manipulating the competition.

Yandere! Kars

As a pillarman who would normally look at a human with disdain, his fixation with your is increasingly dangerous. Especially if you happen to be working with Joseph, Lisa Lisa, and Caesar, (and if they are anywhere near fixated as he is with you, things are bound to be brutal). Your a goal for him just as the red stone of Aja is, no one or anything will stand in between him and you.

Considering you must be worth something if you managed to be seen in a positive light of a being who lusts to stand as a superior being.

Surely he toys with your well-being just to try and coax the others out, placing you into unfair situations. Such as being outnumbered by recently turned underlings. (More than anything the worst outcome would be you having the red stone, as Kars would snatch you up himself without letting you putting up even a minuscule bit of a fight)

Considerably he revels seeing you at your limits, cunningly mocking you with backhanded compliments. But in between there’s a sincere remark that sends utter chills down your spine. He’s very willing to get a stone mask on you and turn you at a moments notice. Not only to torture Joseph and the others with their obsessed actions in having to use hamon.

He’ll also hum over the fact how delicious you’d taste if he just happened to absorb you. Frightening your fragile soul to the core as he mockingly takes a finger of yours into the skin. Honestly he’d mostly disregard the others obsession in place of you. Though that isn’t to say he wouldn’t love to tear anyone to shreds who possibly thinks they could have you of all things.

Yandere! Pt 3 DIO

There’s massive tension when arriving in Cairo, Egypt. You can’t help but sense something is up with the guys, an overprotective streak. No it was something more, and you had to keep them at bay. Each of them were ruthless to anyone that dared to try to hurt you. Though their supposed protection could be absolutely suffocating. Then there was occasional issues...Kakyoin was normally snippy and pretty sharp with his insults but something was more intense and spiteful behind him insulting Polnareff.

Jotaro was silent but his presence was sharp and barely left you, how could you not notice a man practically staring holes into the back of your head. Most of all Polnareff couldn’t be more than a few meters away, he was practically a lap dog. Until one of the others intervened with a vengeance.

The trip had started completely normal for their personalities but now it was twisted into something that likely freaked you out. Even putting you on edge comparable enough to the undead fiend hiding in Egypt. That was the least of your issues however when you did arrive in the fated city of Cairo. Dio himself waited with a suave calmness of anticipation of the people who wanted to kill him. Hidden within the confines of a building well tucked away, he desired to destroy the burden that was he Joestars but also something else.

There was you. So he bides his time carefully while his servants attempt to take the group out before they could bother approaching him. Of course he’s not surprised in the slightest when they make it right on his doorstep.

You all happen to split off at an oh so convenient time. Anyone you happen to run into whether it be Terrence d’arby or even Vanilla Ice *Varying on who you split off with). Give you looks of intrigue but explain nothing of their vague interests.

Perhaps you inexplicably end up on your own by some miracle, even if it wasn’t a particularly good idea. Dio absolutely delights himself in tracking you down in the night under the stars of Cairo. He doesn’t even make haste in taking care of anyone chasing him. The vitriol he’s met with even stronger than usual hatred for his existence tips him off to the groups feelings for you. The blond vampire certainly couldn’t have that type of fixation possibly eyeing you, aside from himself that is.

Dio will eventually find you, and certainly corner you in one shape or another. If he happens to need to use The World to achieve this if you’re not too far away than so be it. He towers over you with a wave of charisma and confidence, a smirk placating his desires placated right in front of him.

“Astounding you came this far with the Joestars, I’ve never seen such determination to cross the world with a bunch of fixated fools...” he’ll muse nonchalantly. But there’s something wrong you can just feel it, his eyes are no different. His interest in you is frightening for some reason. He plays along with the mix of fury and fear in your eyes, the swings of your stand that he easily dismisses with a few strong swipes of his stand. Then he’ll comment of your distress, reminding him of countless others who came near him. Time proceeds to stop and he comes up on the other side of you.

He enjoys the feel of your neck beneath his fingers before firmly letting his nails dig into the surface.

Time resumes, his digits already digging into your arteries with little effort. An air of superiority fills the air, he’ll inform you this is where the fight ends. Unfortunately it’s not the way you wanted it to in the slightest, no he never intended to give you that choice in the first place.

He doesn’t hesitate to tease you, his breath just centimeters from your face as he bends down. telling you not to bother with trivial resistance, his lovely little pet.

Yandere! Yoshikage Kira Kira is particularly interesting with his yandere tendencies, it’s bad enough he has to hide a deadly hand fetish let alone an obsession for a whole person. He’s rather concerned immediately as this obsession isn’t typical of his usual murderous intents. What makes it worse most likely, is he probably has the awareness you might be part of the group that’s attempting to pursue him.

Even when he assumes the identity of Kosaku Kawajiri, he’s not only on edge of being discovered but you are also an issue. He should want to eliminate you just like the rest who are trying to find him. But he can’t seem to convince himself of such of endeavor, even with the potential of just having your hands

When it comes down to it however, he’s on edge enough to strategize around you somehow. Especially with Hayato and Shinobu being involved with his assumed identity’s life.

His heart impulsively races if he stumbles near by you, an attempt to rationalize his feelings after acting on his simple desires for so long.

Though there’s likely a way to track your habits after he gets rid of the others, and any feasible evidence incriminating him towards these newly missing pupil. Surely he can track your family’s schedule, perhaps even your own to an extent.

There’s much he has to work around, but he’ll somehow make something work even if Kira has to erase every single little thing to get to you.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere jjba #yandere scenario #jojo’s bizarre adventure #dio brando #yoshikage kira #kars #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jjba #jojo x reader #jjba imagines #jjba x reader

635 notes · View notes

pars-ley · 4 years

Text

Repercussions: Suspenders, Satin and Stockings

Pairing : Dom Yoongi x F reader

Summary : You're determined to rein-act a wildly passionate break away with Yoongi, so you surprise him when he gets home from work.

Genre : PWP / smut / established relationship au / one shot /

Rating : 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings : Dom x sub / daddy kink / unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) / creampie / oral sex m + f receiving / spanking / restraints / squirting / finger foreplay / multiple orgasms /

Word count : 3.1k

Prompts : Interrupt me one more time. I dare you. + eyes on me + you're begging to be punished

A/N : This started off as a drabble and I just got carried away with it. It's just filth really, sorry in advance. Keep reading line from the start cause we a hoe from the get go, in the wonderful words of @ditttiii

Beta read by @ditttiii you're an angel.

Thank you to @wheresmymoniat for supporting me with this one and your endless encouragement, it means a lot.

As you slip into your new black, satin and lace underwear set, the material softly caressing your skin underneath, you wait, eager for him to arrive home.

You adjust your suspenders, ensuring your stockings are fixed and secure. Easing your feet into high, black heels and slipping your arms into your black satin robe, knotting the tie around your waist, showing just enough of the garments beneath to tease.

You smooth the fabric of your robe, taking one last look in the mirror, your hands travel down the river of glistening thread, reminding you of your vacation last spring, the hot nights with tangled limbs encased in satin sheets.

The crack of the front door opening, shatters your steamy thoughts before they could materialise into much more, and fresh excitement blooms in your stomach.

“Baby, you home?” His deep voice calls out to you, in more ways than one. Your body, already aching, just from hearing his pet name for you.

Your heels click along the wood floor as you make your way to him. His figure dominates the room, as always, you watch as he puts his bag down and flicks through the mail, his back to you.

"How did your meeting go?" You ask leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom.

"Really well, actually. Better than I expected," He mumbles, tossing down the various letters on the counter. "How was your day?" He asks, finally turning to look at you.

Surprise flitters across his face before he conceals it back into his usual composed mask.

"My day’s been just fine, thanks." You smirk at him, seeing the hunger in his eyes as he slowly stalks towards you, like a tiger hunting its prey.

His hands immediately travel to the knot of your robe, as he pulls the tie apart and watches the satin fall open, a silky doorway to his personal Eden.

He brushes the robe, lacing his fingers through the irresistible material.

His eyes roll into his head before they bare down on you again, even more intense.

"Vienna?" He asks, his voice thick with lust.

You simply nod in response to him reading your thoughts. He’s inside your head without even trying, the two of you; two halves of a whole, the perfect match.

"You want that again, baby?"

You nod again, eagerly, biting your lower lip in anticipation.

His mouth twitches slightly at the corners, fighting a smile. "Get on your knees." He commands, the authority in his voice making you quiver.

You do as he says, goosebumps cascading across your skin from the cold, hard floor. Your eyes fixated on his crotch and the very obvious tent in his trousers.

"Eyes on me." He bites.

You obey in an instant, as his thumb brushes along your bottom lip, making you clench your thighs together for relief from your throbbing core.

He slowly unzips his fly, his eyes never leaving yours, the only audible sound in the room is the zipper and your loud gulp, swallowing down your accumulating saliva from your watering mouth. Hungry to devour him.

“Open.” He orders as he slips his thumb inside your mouth and uses it to push your jaw down, creating a wider crevice as he guides his dick into you.

You suck him in greedily, making him gasp, feeling a little smug as you continue to draw him into your throat as far as you can, you repeat this movement, feeling his thighs tense under your palm. Saliva runs down your chin and he wipes it away with his thumb as he grunts with each movement.

You relish the way his hand is at the back of your head, fingers snaking into your hair and pulling you deeper onto him, making you gag as tears slowly trickle down your cheeks.

Adrenaline surges through you, heat prickling at the back of your neck as your arousal grows, creating a pool of liquid want in your panties. The sweet, salty taste of him at the back of your throat makes your eyes roll back into your head.

He groans. “Yea, you like this baby, you like taking my hard cock down your throat? You’re so good for me.” His breathy voice sends chills down your spine as goosebumps bloom all over your skin.

You moan in response, the muscles inside your core tightening with desire.

He thrusts his hips into you, and your throat contracts around him at the action. You put your thumb inside your fist and squeeze to stop yourself from gagging, as you relax to open yourself up to take him deeper, Yoongi grunts as a reflex. Once he hits the back of your throat you swallow around him. The groan that escapes him has your thighs squeezing together to ease the throbbing that pulsates furiously, agonisingly, between your legs.

He withdraws from you quickly, making you gag on air. He looks down at you, furious, eyes blazing daggers into you. Excitement blooms in your stomach at the idea of what repercussions you’ll face.

“Stand.” He commands.

You’re up on your heels, eager and hanging on to his every word.

“That was naughty.” He scowls at you. “You know better than that.”

He grabs your arms and pins them over your head. Using the silk belt, he ties your wrists tightly, the material pinching your skin. He attaches it to the hook on the back of the door so your hands are suspended above you.

"The only place I'll be cumming tonight, is inside this tight, wet cunt." He runs a finger lightly along your slit. The soaked material makes it almost impossible to feel the action but it has you throbbing with need regardless.

His hands find their way over to your breasts, pulling the lace trimmed silk that covers them, down and exposing you to him and the cool air.

Your already sensitive buds harden at the prospect of his touch. He pinches one in between his fingers and a jolt of pleasure shoots straight to your core, lighting it like a beacon calling him home.

You gasp, your head shooting back and hitting the door but you barely feel it, too entranced by him slowly rolling the nub back and forth between his pads.

A moan escapes your lips as your breath hitches in your chest. You feel blood pump straight down to your core, as it pulsates wildly, pleading to be touched with every throb. You rub yourself up against his exposed hard, dick and he flinches away from you.

He glares at you, his dark eyes ablaze with fury. "You're begging to be punished." He snarls at your disobedience.

He leans against you and kicks your legs apart roughly. His fingers slither their way into your panties, meeting the liquid lust that greets him with a swift curl into your entrance. You don’t get a chance to breathe before he’s drawing unholy sounds out of you as he slowly caresses the sweet spot hidden inside you, making your toes curl and leaves your breath coming out short and sharp.

You could already feel the sweet build up of your orgasm deep in your stomach as you grind your hips to match his movements, chasing that high you’re so desperate for. His hand comes slamming down on your hips, pinning you to the door. His fingers so tight they will surely leave bruises.

“Y/n, if you can’t behave, then you won’t get to cum. Only good girls get to cum, are we clear?”

You close your eyes to try and calm yourself to listen to his words and follow them whilst nodding your head.

“Say it.” He barks.

“Yes, daddy.” You purr.

He takes a long breath in, running his nose along your throat and pulling your earlobe in between his teeth. “Now. don’t. move.” He orders, the darkness in his voice combined with his breath against your ear, enough to leave you shivering against him.

You kept as still as you could, even with the painful ache in between your legs.

He spreads your folds and his fingers begin their onslaught, rubbing small circles onto your swollen bud and making you cry out with delight. You could feel your toes curling instantly, as your suspended arms made it harder for you to control your breathing.

“Do not cum until I tell you.” He says, grabbing your face and forcing him to look at you.

He waits for your response but all you can focus on is the pleasure bubbling inside of you, spreading through you and ready to burst.

“Do not cum yet, y/n, you know what-”

“Yoongi,” You whine, cutting him off.

“No. You only cum when I tell-”

“But I’m so close.” You breathe out, unable to think about anything but your climax.

He stills his fingers but doesn’t withdraw them, pressing his thumb harshly on your clit and sending your core into spasms.

“Interrupt me one more time. I dare you.” He spoke with such menace you knew he would punish you all night if he had to. You bite your lip to try and control yourself. The hunger you feel is overwhelming, you're here acting like a starved lover and nothing could be further from the truth. The more you got of Yoongi, however, the more you wanted. The more you craved. He opened you up in ways you never could have imagined, you do things for him you never would have dreamed of, because he makes you feel comfortable and safe. He is home.

"I’m sorry, daddy. I'm just not sure I can take much more." You look at him with pleading eyes.

He raises an eyebrow at you, you see a flicker of deeper hunger burn bright in his eyes before he's moving his body off of you.

His rock hard dick still out and looking angry and red, begging to be touched.

He closes the distance between you and unhooks your bound hands from the hook. He pulls you by the ribbon to the bed. Taking a seat on the edge he swiftly pulls you down and lays you, face down, across his lap.

His hand comes down hard on your behind making you cry out, your flesh rippling under the impact, pain shooting through you and warming you up from the inside.

“If you can’t—”

He starts but brings his hand barrelling back down onto you, in the same tender place as before. The sound of his palm meeting your flesh echoes sharply through the room. You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. The pain is intense but you’re aware of your arousal seeping out of you.

“—obey me,—”

He rubs your red, raw flesh in gentle circles, soothing the sting for a moment before he comes slicing through the air again, the strike snapping loudly into the quiet.

"You will be punished." He finishes. His hand pressed firmly on your sore cheek, massaging the tender area lovingly.

"Yes, daddy." You sighed, finally able to release the breath you were holding.

He turns you over in one fluid motion and kisses you hard and slow, holding onto the back of your neck and caressing your back with his other hand. The movement is so loving and gentle, you relax into it and kiss him back with a passion that surprises even you.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back he says onto your pulsing throat,

"Lie on the bed."

You scramble up quickly and follow his orders. He climbs slowly up your legs with his hands on your knees and spreads them open as wide as they will go.

He gives you a one sided smirk that has you gulping with anticipation and fiery desire engulfing you from the inside. He doesn't give you a moment before he attacks your soaked folds with his lips. His mouth encasing you as his tongue seems to be everywhere at once.

Every time he sucks or licks your sensitive button you feel yourself heading closer towards the edge, ready to dive off and welcome your crash landing.

He eats you like a man possessed, giving you no chance to pull enough air into your lungs. Your fast breathing turning into heavy pants as you fought the urge to rock your hips against him. His hands pin you down, massaging your tensed muscles.

Just as you were about to snap and come undone, he withdraws, cold air hits your exposed, slick folds. Your pussy throbs violently, twitching with denied pleasure.

"Yoongi!" You whine, your body writhing against air.

"You haven't been good though, have you?" He raises an eyebrow at you daring you to question him.

You sigh, holding in the fury that threatens to boil over from the need to cum so badly you can hardly see straight. "No, I'll be good Daddy." You purr, gazing up at him innocently through your lashes.

He smirks. "Ok, let's test that."

He leans over you and frees your burning wrists, he rubs and kisses the red welts around them, soothing them with his soft lips.

"Sit up." He commands as he unhooks the clasp of your bra and removes it, leaving a path of kisses from your shoulders down to your breasts. Leaving goosebumps in his wake with every breath and touch against your skin.

Your breath quickens again as he makes his way to your tight, sensitive nipples, pulling one into his mouth softly, leaving pleasure to sear through you, lighting your veins with fiery need.

His teeth roughly pinching your nipple has you crying out and your hips rock up to him, craving some kind of release.

He reaches your suspenders, his fingertips hovering over them hesitantly, unsure what he wants to do with them.

"As irresistible as I find these, I want you naked and bare, so I can marvel at what belongs to me." His fierce words have your stomach quivering with anticipation and your mouth dry from your heavy breaths, fast and ragged.

He pulls them off agonisingly slow, discarding them and decorating the wooden floor with the sheer material of your stockings.

He grabs your knees and spreads your legs wide, staring at your core as if it's the holy grail come to sate his thirst.

He buries his head between your legs once again and explores fervently, tongue snaking its way into every crevice. He massages your sensitive button with rapid movements, lips encasing you and sucking, making you gasp and grapple for the sheets.

The build up is instant, insides coiled and ready to spring with your release.

But this time it's different, you feel an unusual pressure, low in your stomach.

"Cum for me." He says, against your heated clit.

With one last movement you do exactly as you are told, and allow your release to consume you, welcoming it with an eager embrace.

The pressure is intense as you feel a sudden rush of liquid escape you, as your eyes roll back in your head.

Letting out a passionate cry, your body writhes around him, twitching with every contraction of your orgasm. He continues massaging you with his mouth, making white spots appear behind your eyes, until your loud whines are inescapable.

His eyes are already on you, as you suspect they have been all along. His one sided smirk starting a flutter in your core you aren't ready for.

His mouth glistens with your arousal, you're surprised by the vast amount and all you can think about is kissing him and tasting yourself.

You feel a flush creep over your cheeks. "I can't believe you got me to do that." You exclaim breathlessly, thinking over the countless times since returning from Vienna, you had tried to get yourself to ejaculate like that with no success. Only he can get you there.

"You're going to do that again, but around my dick this time." He orders, face impassive.

He crawls up your body, still fully clothed and shiny faced with your orgasm.

He runs his tongue seductively over his wet lips before crashing his mouth to yours. His hand comes up to your face, grabbing it possessively and claiming your mouth.

Your tongues dance wildly together, the taste of your remnants and his harsh grip on you has blood already surging down to your core again.

He groans against your mouth, "ah, I need to be inside you. Tell me to take what's mine."

"Take it, it's yours. I'm yours. Take me, please." You beg in between his lips smothering yours.

At your words, he lines up at your entrance and slides quickly into you, drawing a guttural moan from him that has you clenching around him in response.

He thrusts powerfully into you, sending jolts of pleasure straight through you, every time he hits that hidden gem inside you.

He lifts your backside onto his folded knees, tilting you upwards, all the better to hit the spot with. Your body is electric with his deliberate movements, making you call out his name repeatedly, as if it were your personal mantra.

His hand snakes its way up to your throat, just the weight of it has your eyes rolling back and when he applies pressure, your face instantly feels swollen. Fresh arousal coats him as he grinds his hips deliciously into you.

When you can feel yourself clench around him - ready to unravel - he snatches his hand from your throat, wets his fingers with his mouth; leaving a trail of saliva in its path and vibrates his digits rapidly on your clit.

Your body jolts in response, back arching and limbs writhing underneath him, desperately seeking your end. Your core starts to hurt with each throb of need and hunger.

You look up at him with pleading eyes, biting your lip, teeth sinking into the soft flesh, silently begging for him to say the words you crave to hear so badly.

"Cum for me, baby." He says, giving you permission for your release.

And just like that, you unravel around him. Gripping him with your insides, milking him simultaneously as your body twitches with pleasure underneath him, gripping the sheets and turning your knuckles white.

His warm seed spills into you with each pant of your name that escapes his lips, as his eyes are trained on your cunt, squirting your orgasm all over him.

When your vision clears he slides off you, landing alongside you on the bed and pulling you close.

"I love you." He whispers into your hair.

Your heart sings at his words, leaving you grinning into his chest like a Cheshire cat who got the cream.

Memories of your time in Vienna flash behind your closed eyes and you let the blanket of sleep overcome you. His arms encasing you, making you feel safe and warm. There is absolutely no place you'd rather be.

105 notes · View notes

purplecatghostposts · 4 years

Note

Omg PLEASE write a part 2 for the Pining Gordon snippet you did, if you want! It was sooo cute and so fun to read them banter!!

Hell yes.

Continuation of This

There’s two requests for a part 2 so this is Part Two and THEN there’s gonna be a part thREE.

Unlike most of my shorts/drabbles, I actually came up with a title for this one. It’s called ‘Lights Out’

Edit: Adding a lil ‘Keep Reading’ thing since this got kinda long

——

Gordon’s first mission of ‘Don’t fall in love with the security guard’ failed. Now, his second mission of ‘Don’t flirt with the security guard’ is on the same downhill path.

In Gordon’s defense, it’s been a while, okay?

Before the Resonance Cascade, Gordon’s life was pretty cut and dry. Wake up, take Joshua to kindergarten, double and triple check that his babysitter would pick him up afterwards and if they couldn’t, contact the backup babysitter, and worst comes to worst, contact his ex.

Once he knows Joshua is in good hands, Gordon goes to work, spends most of his day there with the occasional bathroom and lunch break, might catch up with a few coworkers and have to turn down any offers to go out, then head straight home, cook dinner, ask Joshua how his day was, probably draw or watch TV with Joshua, put him to bed, go to sleep, and it starts up all over again.

Rinse and repeat. Being a single dad takes up most of his time, he hasn’t gone on an actual date since Joshua was born and Gordon and his partner decided to split, much less flirted with anyone. Not to mention, nobody’s flirted with him much either.

This isn’t new or unfamiliar territory but... Gordon kinda forgot what it was like to have this feeling in his chest.

Benrey yanks him out of the sight of a turret and when Gordon nearly falls, Benrey catches him just before you hit the ground. Gordon must look as bewildered and flustered as he feels because Benrey can’t hold back a snicker. “What, got two left feet or none at all, Gordon?”

“I’m gay- GREAT, I said I’m great.” Gordon sputtered, quickly standing up straight. Benrey must’ve not heard him because he looks more confused than smug, and Gordon knows he would’ve looked smug if he heard him.

“Whatever you say.” Benrey shrugs, letting it go.

Gordon got off the hook this time but he’s losing it. The latch on Benrey’s helmet broke so Benrey has been wearing his helmet less and less as of late and all Gordon can think of is the fact that he so badly wants to touch his hair.

The idea of asking embarrasses him. How is he supposed to defend himself? Or worse, Benrey is chill enough to where he’d let him. What is Gordon even supposed to do if he says yes? He hasn’t even got that far, every time his mind tries to imagine it, Gordon’s heart palpitates and he has to chill out before Benrey notices.

Assuming he hasn’t already. Benrey’s not an idiot and Gordon’s not a great actor. The inevitability of him putting two and two together is there and it looms over him.

The longer they spend time alone, the longer Gordon can feel himself becoming more and more comfortable with him.

They settle down in a quiet corner of Black Mesa, an office that’s a little worse for wear but it has a door meaning they’ll hear if anyone comes in. The heat must be broken around these parts because Gordon finds himself shivering for once.

A hand reaches over and flicks his nose, because Benrey can never get his attention the normal way, can he? “How are you cold? This... ‘S nothing. How have you even survived this far if this makes you shiver?”

“We’re in New Mexico, Benrey. I’m used to it being hotter.” Gordon shoots back. There’s no bite in their words anymore. With the rest of the Science Team still missing, they’ve fallen into a rhythm. The teasing is still there but... Well, it’s just between friends now.

“You haven’t seen real heat until it’s 170 degrees outside.” Benrey releases a short cackle. Gordon rolls his eyes but the ghost of a smirk betrays him.

“Stop trying to one up me in every conversation with stories about your planet. I get it, shits intense there and you’re like a... Alien god or whatever.”

“And don’t you forget it.” Benrey grins. It falters for a split second when Gordon’s shivering gets a little worse. “Hey uh... Since you’re a loser who can’t control your body temp at will, c’mere. Would be... Would be pretty lame if I just let you die.”

Gordon feels his heart stop, but by some miracle, he inches closer and leans against Benrey. He’s cold, but only for a second. Then he suddenly feels like a heated blanket and Gordon stops thinking. He lets out a breath of relief and without meaning to, drops his entire body weight on Benrey.

Benrey luckily doesn’t budge, nor make much of a fuss. Gordon buries his face into his shoulder. “How..?”

“Huh?”

“You can just... Heat up like that... How are you so lucky? Not fair.” Gordon tells him in a muffled voice. Benrey stifles a laugh.

“I wouldn’t call myself lucky but-” Benrey’s abruptly cut off as his voice turns into a pleasant song. Gordon turns his head and gets a look at pink and golden balls floating in the air. He sits up, staring at them curiously.

When he looks at Benrey again, his face is a deep red. “...As- as I was uh, saying before I was rudely interrupted-”

“What’s gold to pink mean?”

“It’s pink to gold- fuck.” Benrey quickly shut his mouth. It did nothing to sway Gordon’s interest.

“What’s pink to gold mean, Benrey?”

“Look... Do you want the translation or the heat because you’re not gettin’ both. ‘S not fair.”

Gordon groaned and didn’t answer. They both knew what his answer was going to be- he wasn’t going to give up the heat. “...Do you sleep at all or is that another perk of yours too? Don’t think I’ve seen you actually sleep.”

Benrey made a noncommittal noise. “Kinda. It’s less ‘Unconscious’ and more ‘Hitting pause on a video game and taking a snack break’ you feel me?”

Gordon wasn’t entirely sure he understood what that meant for Benrey physically but he nodded anyways. “Think everyone else is okay?”

“Huh? Yeah of course.” Benrey snorted. “Not a single one of ‘em are fully human like you, they’ll be fine.”

“Right.” Gordon’s eyes drooped.

Benrey must’ve noticed because the next words out of his mouth were, “You gonna become Gordon Sleepman?”

“Maybe...” Gordon mumbled, eyes closing and refusing to open again. Benrey laughed but it got further and further away until Gordon slipped into a dreamless slumber.

—

Fighting by Benrey’s side took some of the usual stress away. Gordon knew that Benrey had his back, it became easy to relax a little and focus with him there.

The assassins were tough but with their power combined and a few explosives, it wasn’t hard to drive them away. Gordon had to take a breather afterwards, leaning up against the wall, but there was a smile plastered to his face. They were really doing this- they were going to get out of here alive.

God, Gordon couldn’t wait to see Joshua. He’d get an earful from his ex but he knew they meant well and would only be worried about him. Not to mention, Gordon wanted Benrey to meet Joshua. Something told him that they’d get along and Gordon wanted Benrey to be apart of that life.

“You good?” Benrey was looking over him carefully, eyeing a particularly nasty looking wound. “Lookin’ a little red there... In the face too.”

Gordon shook his head. “Just need a breather. And possibly a first aid kit.”

“I know where one is.” A new voice told them. Benrey and Gordon blinked and turned to the source. Gordon’s jaw dropped and his eyes lit up.

“Bubby! Dude, where- where have you been?”

Bubby seemed to shift in place. Something about him looked off, the look in his eyes, his arms crossed, the halting way he was talking- did he actually swallow before speaking? “Around.” Bubby said simply.

Gordon blinked. “You... You good, dude? You don’t seem yourself.”

“I’m fine, Gordon. Do you want a first aid kit or not?” Bubby snapped at him but his shoulders were tense.

Carefully, Gordon made his way over to him with Benrey on his heels. “That’d be great, thank you, Bubby.” Gordon paused, determining that stress seemed to be the answer and offered Bubby a hug.

Bubby took a step back. Gordon refused to take it personally. The guy looked like he was having a bad day. If he needed space, so be it. Gordon would be here when he was ready.

Benrey’s eyebrows raised at Bubby. “Where’s Coomer ‘n Tommy?” He asked slowly.

“...We got separated.” Bubby turned his back to them, moving forward. “Let’s just go already.”

The lack of expression alarmed Gordon. Did something happen? Why was Bubby acting so... Distant.

“You can tell us anything.” Gordon told Bubby. “We’re a team, no matter what.”

His offer fell on deaf ears.

Bubby stopped in front of what looked like a supply room. At the very end of the room laid a first aid kit, just as Bubby said. Gordon turned to Bubby and gave him a smile. “Hey. Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Bubby’s face dropped and while his mouth opened, no words came out.

Gordon entered the room, with Benrey following behind and Bubby in the back.

The lights went out.

—

The lights going out temporarily surprised Benrey until his night vision kicked in. Not a moment too soon either as soldiers suddenly surrounded Gordon and his stomach dropped.

Benrey was ready to lunge forward but arms wrapped around him and held him back. Benrey struggled until there was a voice in his ear.

“Don’t interfere or you’ll get hurt too.” Bubby hissed.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. Benrey turned his gaze to Bubby furiously, though Gordon’s cries in pain pierced his heart. “You- you did this?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Bubby’s grip on him was tighter than iron. “You don’t know what they would’ve done!”

“I wouldn’t betray a friend, even if my life was on the line.” Benrey felt his form start to shift, getting less humanoid and more monstrous in his anger.

“It wasn’t my life!” His arms were shaking now. Benrey stopped.

Oh.

“How-” Benrey tried to say but Bubby cut him off.

“It doesn’t matter how.” Fear and fury leaked into his voice. “But I didn’t. Have. A choice.”

Benrey wanted to argue- he would’ve- but something else stopped him. Stopped them both in fact.

There was a soldier with a hunter’s knife and Gordon was screaming.

Bubby’s grip loosened enough for Benrey to break free, but Bubby didn’t seem to care when he did. Instead, his eyes were paralyzed. “I... They never said they were going to... Bastards.”

Benrey felt his form shift and grow before finally he made his attack.

He was too late to save Gordon’s arm but Benrey wrapped him in his own arms and bolted out of there. He looked back, only once, to watch Bubby burst into flames.

Benrey let his instincts guide him- out of Black Mesa, into the sun, and away from the soldiers. Nothing else around them except for a headcrab but Benrey sent one dirty look to it and it ran.

Gordon was bleeding- a lot. Too much- and missing an arm. Benrey could regrow those but Gordon was too human to do the same.

“G- Gordon?” Benrey said carefully. His breath hitched in his throat when his eyes cracked open, squinting. “Hey uh... You’re- you’re not gonna die, are you?”

Gordon paused for a long moment. Then he laughed to himself. “Benrey... Thanks. For getting- getting me out of there.”

“You- you’re good, right? Thinkpan still working? Got- got a lot more blood than this, right?”

Gordon blinked before nodding slightly. “I... Think so? It’s- it’s really hard to think right now. I think I should sleep... Man I- I really need a first aid kit now, huh?”

He laughed again. He kept doing that but Benrey didn’t get what was so funny. “Gordon?”

“You look- you look beautiful, you know that?” Gordon’s one good hand reached up and cupped his face. Benrey didn’t know how to deal with that, his mind was moving too quickly. “Your hair... You should take off your helmet more.”

“You- you don’t know what you’re sayin’...” Benrey stuttered.

“I mean every word.” Gordon stifled a snicker, eyes looking far away.

Benrey shook himself. He didn’t want to go back into Black Mesa but he needed to patch Gordon up before he passed out. Benrey was afraid of what would happen when he passed out. “Keep- keep on chattin’, okay? Stay with me, Gordon.”

Gordon laughed again but this one was softer. “You- you know, I really like it when you say my name. Sounds good when you- when you say it.”

Not actually flirting with you, he’s just delusional. Benrey told himself, keeping his focus as he carefully entered Black Mesa through a pipe. “That’s- that’s cool, Gordon. Uh, what else do you want to talk about?”

Gordon went silent. Benrey panicked. “G- Gordon? C’mon, stay with me, man.”

“What’ssss... What’s Pink to Gold mean?”

Benrey swallowed. Anything to keep him awake, right? “Pink to Gold... Means you’re a sight to behold.”

“Oh. Ohhhhhhh!” Gordon got a stupidly, cute grin on his face. It would’ve caused even more pink and gold sweet voice had Benrey not been stressing like he was. “Benny... Do you loveee me?”

“...I mean, isn’t it obvious?” Benrey thought it was. He was so very certain that Gordon knew. He finally spotted what he was looking for and sprinted over to it, setting Gordon down against the wall and taking it apart. “Stay still- I’m gonna help you, alright?”

Gordon didn’t resist but he did keep talking. “What’s obvious?”

“...I uh, care about you a lot, Gordon?”

Benrey wondered what Xen would say about him if they saw him now. The Great Benrey, running away from home and falling in love with a completely regular human. Except Gordon wasn’t really ordinary- he was... Everything. Funny, kind at heart, protective- a little stiff at times but he loosens up when he can relax. Not to mention, the guy had a great laugh and an even better face.

A face that had such a kind smile on it right now. Benrey wanted to protect that smile- no matter what. Gordon deserved to get out of here safely.

“I- I care about you too, Benny.”

Benrey swallowed. If it weren’t for the fact that Gordon wasn’t looking so hot right now, he might’ve really liked that nickname. Another time- if Gordon ever called him that again, that is.

“I’m gonna wrap this up, okay?” Benrey gestured to where his right arm used to be.

“Okay.” Gordon was still smiling, eyes half lided. “I trust you.”

Those three words went a long ways for Benrey. He shook his head and got to work. As soon as he was done, Gordon promptly passed out, his head against Benrey’s shoulder.

Gordon needed the rest. They’d figure out what came next later. Benrey would take care of him until then.

——

So. I might’ve gone a bit wild with the plot because I couldn’t stop thinking about how differently thing’s could’ve gone with the events in this AU so yEAH!

Hopefully it was good though! Made sure there was some softer moments as well as the darker one. How well I balanced it is up to y’all I suppose!

Thank you for the request! Hopefully Part Three won’t take as long!!

#SB Speaks #SB Writes #To Love A Security Guard AU #Request #Long Post #hlvrai #frenrey #injury #blood #medical m #Was kinda nervous about Part Two bc a lot of people liked Part One and... Expectations and Writer’s Anxiety y’know?#But I think it came out pretty okay #Part Three is gonna be... Interesting #It may or may not take place on Xen ;)#All I’m sayin’#Don’t wanna spoil too much #dismemberment #If I need to add anything #Tell me!

96 notes · View notes

twistedsinews · 3 years

Text

Like Rabbits Seeking Buried Treasure Under the Moonlight

Cyberpunk 2077; Jackie/V, T-Bug, assorted others; PG-13 (AO3 Flavor)

“...point being, I think we deserve a bonus.”

The woman in the swank suit stared at her, an icy fury boiling her eyes.

“But, hey,” V remarked, the shard dangling between her fingertips, “if you don’t wanna comp us what it’s worth, we can always put it back and you can find another team willing and capable not only to take on a corp but also work outside of a fixer.”

Expression still fixed in a scowl, Lavigne glanced off. Then she turned back to the table, credit chip pinched between her thumb and forefinger. She placed it flat, and slid it across the table.

V nudged Jackie. He tore his attention away from the dancefloor below, and reached for the chip over V’s shoulder to give it a scan.

“Looks clean,” he told V.

“Of course it’s clean.” Lavigne huffed. Rising from her seat, she leaned forward to snatch the shard from V, who amicably let it slip away and brushed her thumb against her fingertips instead. “I never want to hear from you again.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” V told her quietly, as the woman faded into the crowd without a backward word.

Behind her, Jackie started to snigger. Smirking, V raised her hand and he clasped it tightly; she squeezed back before letting go. Her head lolled back against the chair, and she smiled at him before rolling to her feet.

The night was young, and they’d just gotten paid overtime.

“How the hell do you do that, anyway?” Jackie asked, as they made their way down from the balcony.

“Do what?”

“Put ideas into peoples’ heads without even saying ‘em. You had her thinking exactly what you wanted her to think.”

“I told the truth; it was her own goddamn paranoia did her in.”

“Fuck, how’d you know she’d think it was worth extra?”

“Educated guess. She was willing to go outside of a fixer to get it. And she was so worried that I’d read it she didn’t even think of you as anything but dumb hustle. Just ‘cause someone can make it in the corpo life doesn’t make ‘em any less of a gonk.”

“...you ever do that to me?”

At the bottom stair, V paused to look up at him. “Huh?”

“You know – make me think shit that’s not true.”

Staring down at her, Jackie wasn’t even offended by the notion.

Just openly curious.

V thought about it, and shrugged. “Can’t remember a time I ever needed to.”

Jackie snorted.

“What?” V scoffed. “That was a no.”

“Mhhm,” Jackie intoned.

He reached for her hand, and his fingers tangled with hers as he took the lead.

Dancing in Night City was nothing like in the badlands, V had learned early on. Even different districts, different clubs could have their own unique flair. Melding them together gave her a distinct style all her own, that shifted and changed with the mood and the music.

Jackie wasn’t quite as fluid in style, but nevertheless he improvised as best as he could and kept up with her all the same. They shared a kind of synchronicity that transferred smoothly from the battlefield to the dance floor.

A woman drifted along the far wall, circling inward as she watched them. As the night wore on, she moved right into V’s orbit.

It was almost too subtle to be called a dance, the way they circled one another on the floor. The woman moved with a refined kind of elegance, her cream-colored dress splashed with the colorful lights of the club. V found herself entranced by the pale glow of the strangers eyes.

And when Jackie got too close, the stranger stared at him icily.

Taken aback, he offered the woman a nod of understanding and a repentant smile. Meeting V’s eyes, he stepped away.

Just because they had an arrangement, didn’t make them exclusive; just because they shared didn’t mean every hookup worked out that way.

They ended up along the dark edge of the room. Pushed up against the wall, V found the peculiar glow of the woman’s eyes seemed even brighter, with the light of the bar shining like a halo behind her. Her own eyes slid closed, she tilted her face lower...

And then...

What she’d been expecting to happen, didn’t.

V blinked, at a loss, as the stranger stared at her, equally so.

Then, the woman simply turned to walk away.

V reached for her, and the woman shrugged her off. She cast a cold, blank stare over her shoulder, to which V raised her hands in a gesture of amicable peace.

The stranger slipped off into the crowd.

V cut her own path, her focus shifting back towards the dance floor, and the beating heart of the bar. There was plenty of delight left to be had, but the strangeness of the encounter, never mind the sting of the rebuff, left her feeling distant.

Instead, she made her way towards the outer landing, following the Exit sign. From there, she cast a perfunctory scan of the room.

At last, she caught sight of Jackie at the bar, a woman on either arm, each as different, at a cursory glance, as night and day, but complementing one another to a glitz perfection. He was splitting his attention between them, for all that Jackie had made himself the center of theirs; V couldn’t be sure what subject they might’ve been on, but he was energetic in telling some story or a joke while they hung off his every word in rapt attention.

With a soft sigh, V glanced away.

When she looked again, Jackie was staring right at her, vibrant expression faded.

Managing a faint smile, she held up a hand in a lackadaisical wave, meant to impart: Goodnight. Good luck. ‘Til tomorrow.

Jackie stared a moment longer, an inscrutable expression on his face as he watched her across the room, before seeming to remember he had company. He turned his mind back to them, twice as lively as before.

V tore herself away as he was kissing the brighter one’s hand.

Stepping out of the warm embrace of the bar and onto the chill night street, she breathed out a long, measured breath. Holograms and billboards cast bright shadows over the world, blotting out both the darkness and the moonlight, and despite the hour there were still a colorful assortment of people going about their business – legitimate and not.

With no destination in mind, V started down the street.

She’d only made it past a few buildings when a message flickered at the edge of her display, demanding attention.

Hold up.

Lifting her head, V blinked, and glanced behind her to find Jackie jogging to catch up. She waited for him, and only starting walking again once he’d fallen into step beside her. Quietly, at first, but when she didn’t say anything at first, he opted to fill the silence.

“After all that, didn’t work out, huh?”

V shrugged.

“Too bad. She’d been watching you the entire time we were negotiating with Lavigne, you know?”

“Since we walked in. But... hey, maybe all she wanted was a dance.” Not wanting to dwell on it, she veered onto a convergent path, “Anyway, why’d you split? Looked like you were having all the luck tonight.”

“Tch.” Jackie nudged her shoulder with his own. “Really, V, what kinda guy’d I be if I got off with twice the good fortune and let a choom walk home all by her lonesome?”

“‘Sides,” he added, “this is nearer my neighborhood, you may as well drop in.”

They walked along in comfortable silence. V’s gaze was drawn to Jackie as he moved with a confident, capable ease, though he was nevertheless weighing up every thin shadow between the buildings they passed.

Her eyes flicked lower, and her fingers brushed his hand.

All at once he was staring at her, a warm curiosity in his expression.

Casually, V glanced off.

As though the shadows between the buildings were that much more interesting than the warmth radiating from his hand, so close to hers. Movement caught in the corner of her eye, and her gaze drifted that way.

Jackie slipped away from her as her pace slowed, and he paused to turn back.

V’s sneakers scuffed the sidewalk as she stopped and blinked.

“Are rabbits common in Night City?”

“Not... that I know of. Why?”

V stared at the white little bunny rabbit, eating lettuce without a care in the goddamn world. Jackie stared at her like she'd lost her mind, or maybe dropped a tab of something she shouldn't have. “Nothing; no big deal.”

It was a bit of an absurd question. But when she looked again, the rabbit was cleaning its face, a pace or two from where it had been a moment ago. V took a step towards it, and it nonchalantly hopped away from her.

With a backwards glance at Jackie – who was still staring at her, at a loss – she took another step, and the rabbit stretched and pulled itself forward.

“You’re really not seeing this?”

With every cautious step V took behind it, the rabbit continued its leisurely way down the alley. Always, it seemed, the same distance away.

Still – she didn’t want to spook it and send it running.

Halfway down to a dead end, the rabbit turned towards the brick wall. The last V saw of it was a flash of its fluffy tail as it wriggled and vanished into the dark. Nearing where it had disappeared, she crouched down; at the base of the wall, bricks had been broken and removed, or had perhaps more simply fallen apart, and she found herself peering into a jagged hole close to the ground.

She couldn’t see into it, and scanning it turned up nothing. And so, without a second thought, V reached down into it.

“What’d you find?” Jackie asked.

V blinked up at him; he’d followed her step for step, even if he hadn’t seen the rabbit. But all she could do was shake her head.

She had no idea what it was.

Rather than soft, warm fur, her fingers found roughened, cold canvas – an old, faded military jacket stuffed in the gap. It was weighed down, and as V pulled it loose from its hiding place, the cloth unraveled around an older-style cyberdeck, at a glance not unlike the antique model she’d had to trade in when hers had stopped working.

But it was in good condition – better than hers had been. Finding its wire, she shrugged up at Jackie, and plugged it in.

A display booted across her lens, but all she could make of it endless stream of garbled data.

“It’s encrypted,” she told Jackie.

“Ah,” she winced, as her further poking around provoked a cautionary counter-spike. “Really, really encrypted.”

Tugging the wire free of her port, V handed the deck up before moving on to check the pockets of the jacket, and came up with an unlabeled shard. Slotting it gave her a momentary sense of... something as it connected and powered on, but... there was nothing on it. Nothing at all.

There was nothing else in the stash, and no sign of the rabbit at all.

Pushing up to her feet, V met Jackie’s inquisitive stare.

He flipped the deck over in his hands, and offered it back to her. Taking it, she wrapped it back up in the jacket.

“Maybe that’s enough mystery for tonight?” Jackie reasoned out loud, as V cast about the alley for anything that would give them any sort of a clue. “Already been a long day.”

V opened her mouth, but she couldn’t argue.

Not when Jackie brushed his fingers down the traces adorning her cheek. Particularly not when he brushed his thumb across her lip, and not in the least when he followed it with his mouth.

~*~

There was a squeak in the third stair from the top she hadn’t kept in mind. By some stroke of luck, it didn’t give her away as she padded down to the family room.

Jackie was sprawled on the couch, thumb pressed to his cheek and a contemplative pout on his lips as he stared off into space.

Stepping lightly, V edged around the sharp angles of the table. Her fingers slid over Jackie’s shoulder for balance as she helped herself to his lap; he roused with a soft groan, turning his head blindly towards her as his hands first skimmed her hips, then slid behind her, and his arms settled about her waist. Jackie blinked twice, the glimmer across his lens fading, only for his eyes to flutter shut as V sought his mouth with her own for a languid, unhurried kiss.

Jackie shifted beneath her, allowing her to settle more firmly against him and drawing a croon of appreciation from her throat.

The kiss broke, and V immediately claimed another – softer, shallower, but no less sweet – before they drifted apart. Opening her eyes, she found herself lost in his, and absently traced her fingers up his neck, her thumb brushing lightly over the mismatched texture of metal and skin behind his ear.

Jackie breathed in deep, and sighed a gentle little, “Oh.”

“Mmm,” V agreed. “Mornin’.”

“Afternoon, more like. You slept half the day away.”

“Mmm? What’re you reading? Anything interesting?”

“Sure.” Jackie shrugged, thinking to add, “If you enjoy poetry.”

“Frost?”

“Blake.”

“Huh.”

Pulling her lip between her teeth, V tangled her fingers in the hem of his shirt, giving it a gentle tug to free it from being tucked. Jackie chuckled, catching one of her hands to stop her from fussing with his belt, and braced her with his other arm as he sat up straighter.

“Alright, how about,” he suggested, with a soft kiss to the heel of her palm to sweeten the deal, “I go and I make you breakfast ‘fore we go and we get started on dessert, hmm?”

With his arm still around her, V held on as he stood, and dropped gracefully to her feet to pad after him as he made his way into the kitchen.

The kitchen was kept, clean, and stocked as it always was. V watched with rapt attention as Jackie dug out and set to work on a selection of fresh vegetables – how Señora managed that feat, V felt she would never know – and tofu protein.

Jackie glanced her way but didn’t admonish her when she stole a slice of toast from a half-built plate, and nibbling kept V occupied long enough for him to finish. She followed him right back out to the family room, where he set the food down on the table for her.

Almost burning her mouth on the first bite, V hissed sharply, and Jackie paused on his way back to the kitchen.

“Jesús, V,” he chuckled. “Give it a moment to cool, yeah?”

She picked away at it, blowing on bites even while it was almost too hot, and he was back again soon enough – a soy drink in one hand and a bottle capped with a shotglass in the other. Seating himself beside her, Jackie slid the first her way, keeping the latter for himself.

Realizing the discrepancy, V blinked.

“You’re not having any?”

“Already ate, chica.”

She jabbed a forkful towards him. “You want some?”

“Nope,” he assured her. “All for you.”

Shoving the food into her mouth, V murmured something around it that might’ve been intended as a word. Jackie smirked at her, pouring himself a shot of tequila.

“So... uh... this thing with seeing rabbits...”

“It was one rabbit.” V stabbed a cube of fried potato. “Maybe I was drunk.”

“Didn’t see you touch a drop last night; how drunk could you have gotten?”

“Maybe I was high.”

“And were you high, V?”

“...no.” V pushed food around on her plate before taking another bite. “Maybe it was just a rabbit.”

“In Night City?” Jackie sighed. “Just thinkin’ out loud here, but maybe it’s time you oughta drop in on Vik. Make sure everything’s workin’ as it should be.”

She stilled, staring at him.

Then swallowed.

“Yeah... maybe,” she assented. “After dessert, though.”

Jackie paused, with the glass barely having tipped towards his mouth.

“Claro que sí,” he acquiesced.

~*~

“Hmm.”

Fidgeting on his table, V rolled her head towards him. Vik had just gotten done telling her how unlikely a problem seemed, and now it was Hmm?

He glanced over at her, then back to his display, and shook his head.

“There’s some garbled data in your system.”

“Meaning...?”

“I’m not sure. Doesn’t look like it could be much of anything.”

Her eyebrows drew together as V stared at him.

“Think in terms of script at its most basic. Binary. Ones and zeros. It looks like some of the zeros got flipped to ones, but at complete random. No pattern behind it. There’s not even enough of it to make anything – a few bytes at most. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“So it’s... not a virus or some daemon that put it there, it’s just... a glitch?”

“There’s nothing else in your software or your hardware. Everything came back running as it should be.” Viktor’s mouth pulled into a frown as he thought about it, “It might indicate your cyberdeck is starting to deteriorate, but the odds on that are long. Militech makes good hardware, and this deck is still practically new.”

“Yeah, and I still got a warranty, right?”

His expression softened, and Vik didn’t quite smile at the joke.

“I could delete it for you? See if it comes back?”

“I could delete it myself, if it turns out to be nothing. Now that I know it’s there.”

“You sure?”

“I kinda wanna know what it is. What it means... if anything.”

Vik conceded with a subtle nod. V reached to pull her link cable free, and he shut down his display. He slid his hand behind her back to support her as she started to sit up.

“If I had to guess, I’d say what it means is be more careful when jacking into random, unmarked terminals.”

She had one foot on the ground, and his hand lingered on her arm as she met his stare, head cocked.

“What about that cyberdeck I found?”

“It’s encrypted. Whatever’s on it, I don’t have the means to decrypt it. Best I could do is reset it for you. It’s in good shape, I’m sure I could get it working like new, but anything on it – if it’s anything of value – would be gone.”

“And the rabbit...?”

Vik shrugged.

“Maybe you saw a rabbit.”

“That Jackie didn’t. And that led me right to the deck and then disappeared.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Sounds a little like Alice in Wonderland.”

V blinked.

Vik’s eyebrows raised.

Both of them glanced at Misty, who draped herself over the arm of Vik’s table and flicked her eyes between them.

“By Lewis Carroll? Jackie has a copy.” She thought about it, leaning her cheek against her hand, and added, “Or he used to. He let me borrow it once.”

Thinking on it a moment longer, V sighed deeply, then turned her attention back to Vik.

“What do I owe you?”

“Peace of mind,” Vik replied. “But scans are always free.”

~*~

“Misty usually knows what she’s talking about,” Jackie told her.

They sat at a stall in Kabuki market over lunch, and V absorbed half of what he was saying, but she was full of good food and the sun was warm on her skin. And if Vik had said it was next to nothing to worry about, well... why worry.

Propping her chin on her knuckles, V glanced off into the thick of the it, gaze wandering across the colorful assortment of stalls and goods for sale. Nothing she felt obligated to buy, but an eclectic selection all the same.

Her eyes narrowed.

“...uh, V?”

She heard him.

Barely.

But her eyes were locked on the rabbit. A scan came up empty, and as it hopped around the corner of the nearest stall, V slipped out of her seat.

With carefree ease, it made its way through the market.

V crept after it, her pace slowed by the bustle of the crowd.

The rabbit ignored her and continued on, disappearing up a walkway without her when she got caught in a particularly thick crowd. Working her way through, she hurried up a level to catch up with it – only to see it’s tail disappear around the curve of the building once she reached the top.

On the upper level of the rotunda, V found the rabbit sitting in front of a door, scrubbing its face with its paws.

“This?” V asked.

The rabbit offered no response, and she glanced up at the sign. She looked down again, and around; the rabbit was nowhere in sight.

Waving her hand over the panel, she opened the door and stepped through.

It was a small shop, but majestic by market standards – a pair of netrunner chairs for public rent in the back, a selection of arcade games... and all the goods that must have been kept behind the counter, or in cyberspace.

The woman manning the counter regarded V coolly as she wandered in. Endeavoring to put up a good front and act, at least, less lost than she felt, V marched right up to the counter. Placing her hands flat, she leaned into it, smiling brightly.

“I’m here to pick something up,” V said. “For...” a rabbit, “...someone. I think.”

The woman behind the counter merely continued to stare at her.

V scratched the back of her neck.

“For... Alice?” she ventured, “Like in Wonderland?”

The woman’s eyes flicked over V’s shoulder, and V followed her gaze to find Jackie moving to stand close behind her.

“Try White Rabbit?” he suggested. “Dinah? Dormouse? Jabberwocky?”

“Maybe...” V tried, “Lewis Carroll?”

It was like attempting to figure out someone’s password. The woman’s bland customer service stare had begun to slip into a look of irritation, as though they were playing some kind of joke.

“Cheshire Cat?” Jackie guessed.

Several uncomfortable seconds ticked by. V dropped to her elbows against the counter, at a complete loss, with the woman now glaring outright, and Jackie slipped his fingers around V’s arm.

“Ah. Apologies, señorita, I think we got the wrong ‘runner shop.”

With a gentle tug, he pulled V away from the counter, and she trailed along after him as he led her out of the shop. He only let go once they were outside, a few paces down the catwalk.

There, he stared down at her, mouth quirked in less of a smile than in complete bewilderment.

“Mind me askin’, What the fuck?”

“Not in the least; I’ve been asking myself that all morning.”

~*~

Her console flickered on. A black screen and a blinking white command line cursor, and nothing else. Lifting her head from her desk, V stared at it, blearily.

Words flashed across the screen.

Who are you?

V sat up a little straighter in her chair, and scrubbed her eyes.

Curiosity won over confusion.

Tentatively, she typed a reply.

The first thing to come to mind.

Who is anybody?

A pause, then followed,

Neither a rhetorical question, nor a riddle. Tell me your name.

Just V.

Link in.

V stared at the words on the screen.

This was the part of her life where being reckless often got her into trouble.

Sometimes, at least, she was aware of it.

In the pause that followed, another word appeared.

Please.

V swallowed. She pulled her neural link free of its cradle, and jacked it into the terminal’s port. She felt... something. A little like linking in to another person and a lot like getting scanned.

You’ll have to do.

“Um. Thanks?” V ventured out loud. She left the cable linked in, for all that she opted to type her replies.

What is going on?

I need you to go to Kabuki market. There’s a netrunner kiosk there. There’s data in their servers I need you to retrieve.

If you’re the one that’s been jerking me around, I was there this afternoon. I don’t think they like me very much.

I’m not jerking anyone around.

Before V could reply, the next line jolted down her back like ice.

I need help.

I have access codes. No one should be there.

Do not trust anyone.

V’s next sentences came slow.

You should know, that’s going to be difficult for me.

I don’t work alone. I have a partner. I trust him very much.

There was a pause before the mystery answered.

Valentino?

Yes.

Don’t involve him.

“Fuck you,” V told the screen, incredulously.

Please.

I need you to find me.

I can’t hold out much longer.

V rubbed her eyes. When she opened them, peering over the back of her hand, there was a single word on the screen.

Help.

“Yeah.” V sighed. “Alright. I heard you.”

Back to Kabuki?

~*~

Kabuki at night only resembled Kabuki during the day.

The merchandise had changed over completely in the hours between, and in the darkness there was much the illusion – if not the reality – that one could find anything.

A distinct flourish of color caught her eye as she turned a corner – an older man, selling nothing less than flowers out of a stall. On another, more leisurely night, V might have stopped and browsed. It wasn’t the first thing to catch her eye, but it was perhaps the most eye-catching.

Tonight, she wove through the evening crowd, once more making her way to the upper rotunda.

The door was locked, its indicator dim.

Narrowing her eyes, V cracked the lock, and the door slid open.

She slipped inside, intuitively pressing herself into the shadows once she was past the threshold. The shop was empty at this hour, and, creeping through the dark, V vaulted over the counter and cracked the door to the back room.

There were several servers running, assorted status lights and screens casting a soft glow over the room. A console drew her attention, and V found a jack to plug into.

For several long moments, she sat still – watching her display and listening to the soft hum of the mainframe as she waited for some connection to be made.

At long last, V fidgeted.

A data packet uploaded to her system.

She didn’t have time to unpack and go over it in detail before a sound got her attention. Another door whispering open, different to the one she’d come in, and V slipped out before whoever it was could stumble across her.

Slipping quickly as she could the long way around the counter, a step ahead of them, V bolted out the shop’s door, onto the rotunda catwalk, and kept on running.

~*~

Her door slid open.

Jolted from her thoughts, V sat up straight.

Jackie poked his head through, offering her a wave and a bright smile when he found her at her desk before stepping through. V pulled herself up from her chair, and stepped around the partition that separated her desk from the rest of the room to meet him.

“¿Qué onda?”

The words that slipped out of her mouth were first that came to mind.

“I was not expecting you here tonight.”

They were overtly blunt, and did nothing to cover her. It was obvious in the way that Jackie cocked his head, eyebrows knit together.

“Had a thing with Vik. Figured while I was in the neighborhood I may as well drop by.”

Smile blooming in full splendor, Jackie offered her a rose.

Taken aback, V blinked at it.

Eyes narrowing at him, she reached for it slowly.

Not a real rose, not up close – the silky petals were made of some kind of synthetic micro-velvet, in an striking array of red and blue, overlapping into one another. Its green leaves and stem hewn closer to the illusion of a plant, but nonetheless still soft under her fingertips.

And even synthetic, the rose still had thorns, for all that they were encased in velvet.

“What’s this you’re working on?”

“Ah.” V turned to find him staring at her terminal screen.

Fuck.

“It’s... something... I was looking into. For someone. Asked me to.”

“Looks familiar...” Jackie mused. He glanced back at her, “Hey, isn’t this the place we broke into the other day?”

V’s gaze was drawn to the map.

“...is it?”

“Maybe not the same floor, but I think that’s the same address.”

He’d barely finished the sentence before V killed the display with a flick of her fingers.

Which only served to bring the full weight of Jackie’s perplexed stare down on her.

V’s gaze fell to the flower in her hands. She twisted it by the stem between her fingertips, watching the petals shiver as they moved.

A small piece of art.

Jackie’s fingers brushed against her temple, and her breath caught in her throat. V leaned into the soft touch as he threaded her hair back behind her ear.

“You know, I...” She breathed out a shaky little sigh. “I’m glad you stopped by. Everything was feeling all...”

It was an honest truth.

Even if it was only a fraction of another.

A deep chuckle rumbled in Jackie’s chest. V dragged her gaze up to meet his.

“For a moment there, thought you were gonna say...” His smirk faded, and he glanced off. “Uh. Yeah. No matter.”

Reaching for his fingers, V let the rose slip from her hand into a glass on the desk. His other hand was already sliding over her hip as she pressed his palm to her mouth, eyes drifting closed, and his fingers skimmed down her chin to tilt her face upward.

Her eyes cracked open again to find him staring, mouth set in a solemn expression that seemed far out of place as he studied her face. Before she could read too far into it, the corner of his mouth quirked, and a slow smile spread across his.

Smiling now herself, V blinked as he kissed her forehead, which was followed by a kiss to her cheek, and another to her chin. He yanked her closer, and she gave a sharp gasp of surprise right against his mouth.

~*~

She was comfortable and warm, and a slow, rhythmic breathing lulled her heart gently.

A small spike of electricity jolted up her spine.

Fuck!

V hadn’t intended to fall asleep.

Squirming, she tried to extricate herself from his embrace without jostling Jackie awake, only for her arm to get held back by a taut pressure on her wrist. Reaching behind her, she followed the tension in her link cable to unplug it from his neural port by touch.

Perceiving a glimpse of the data it was feeding her just before it vanished from her display, V froze, her cable retracting with a soft, audible click as though to punctuate the snag.

Jackie’s arms tightened around her, his mouth soft against the back of her neck sending a shiver coursing through her.

His vitals were hot.

He was wide awake.

“You gonna tell me what it is that’s going on,” he murmured, “or... I gotta make you scream s’more for that?”

“Fuck.”

“Mmm.”

Jackie was warm.

Her bed was warm.

His breath was warm.

That little flutter in her belly in response to his gently scraping across the apex of her jaw with his teeth was warm.

Someone out there needed her help.

“Can’t,” V mumbled at last, wiggling her way out of his grip. She slid her legs out over the edge of the bed, and pressed her hands into her face. “Shit to do.”

“Está bien,” Jackie sighed. He eased past her out of bed, and started picking through their clothes get dressed. “Guess I get to find out when we get there. No es gran cosa.”

“We?”

“You gonna run off into the wild blue yonder chasing rabbits, I’m sure as fuck gonna tag along make sure you don’t trip and disappear down any rabbit holes.”

V rose to her feet as he stepped into his pants.

“Look. I’ve been in Night City long enough – and you’ve taught me enough – that I know what I’m doing. I can take care of myself.”

“Mira. And do you know what it is what you’re doing?”

V stated evenly, and with full confidence, “Not in the fucking least.”

“Exactly my point, V.”

Staring at the floor, V swallowed.

Grabbing up her clothes, one by one, from where they’d fallen, she retreated into her storage room to get dressed. And, more importantly, to strap together her kit.

Stepping out again, she went straight for her terminal, ignoring Jackie as he lurked around behind her.

The shard was missing from the computer’s port.

With a slow, meticulous sigh, V straightened up. She held her hand open over her shoulder, and Jackie pressed the shard into her palm.

“Someone asked for my help,” she told him. “Kept anonymous so far. I really don’t know anything more than that. Just what you saw, and coordinates.”

“They offering you any money?”

“No.”

She slotted the shard. No better place for it, really.

“Sounds suspicious as hell.” Jackie waited until she’d turned around to face him to ask, “Do you really wanna walk into this alone?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” V stated. But that wasn’t the whole conflicting truth. “And I’d feel better having you at my back.”

“¿Cuánto mejor?”

“A lot.”

“Eso lo resuelve. We rollin’ or what?”

~*~

V’s coordinates, once they untangled the right set from the jumble of data, led them out to the badlands.

Straight to a worn hatch dug in the rock beneath their feet, under the moonlight.

“I don’t have any idea of what we’re gonna find down there.”

“No sense standing around, then, is there?” Jackie told her. “Let’s go down and find out.”

V sighed.

Then nodded.

The hatch opened smoothly, without a sound. Down the ladder hidden below it, it opened into an empty, well-lit security checkpoint, guarding a lone door.

Stepping up to the door, V happened to glance down, only to find the rabbit sitting at her feet.

On impulse, she crouched down beside it, thinking it might hop away... but it didn’t. She expected her fingers to pass right through it, like a hologram. Instead, its fur was soft under her fingertips. It scrubbed its face and sat up on its haunches, and for the first time seemed to take notice of the fact that she was there next to it.

Incredulous, V smiled.

Then she remembered Jackie was standing right there beside her. Staring down at her like she might’ve lost it; a mix of confusion and concern playing across his face that he was struggling to keep in check. Straightening up, she looked at him, and shrugged.

“I guess... this is our place.”

Jackie glanced up the ladder, and around at the guard station around them. No one had followed them down, not that they expected that; but stranger still, no one was down here already and no alarms had been tripped.

None that they knew of.

V glanced at the rabbit, still there. She reached for the door’s panel; it slid open, and the rabbit meandered through ahead of them.

Strange, how it wasn’t even locked.

Beyond the door was a dimly lit corridor.

Ahead of them, the rabbit wove from wall to wall, leading them onward into the warren of hallways beyond.

Or leading V onward, as Jackie merely followed her.

A more grim discovery lurked within the darkened halls, where they stumbled across a body – armored, but lifeless. And soon enough another. After a few more, clustered together, one of which might’ve been a scientist or a board director, Jackie stopped to inspect one of them more closely.

“These people can’t have been dead longer than a couple of days.” He wondered out loud, “I know life is cheap, but isn’t it kinda weird that no one came down here to check on any of them?”

V didn’t have an answer for him.

Not a real one, anyhow.

Ahead of them, the rabbit sat and cleaned its face.

Their path wound still deeper into the complex.

V’s thoughts turned inward.

What was there here for them to find?

Who would it help, and how?

What were they even doing down here?

The rabbit thumped.

An illusory warning, which nevertheless brought V up short. She saw the danger the moment she did, only for Jackie to wrap his arms around her and pull her out of harm’s potential way. The rabbit had bolted for cover behind one of the elaborate planters posted at intervals along the hallway, opposite the one were now crouched behind.

Ahead of them, a crew of maybe a dozen heavily armored soldiers, clustered at the end of the hall. One was working on a security door with a torch. Two were standing by. The rest were milling about uneasily

Looks like they’re trying to cut through to whatever’s in there., V flicked to the man over her shoulder.

Bet you it’s the same thing we’re after, whatever that is., hit her display a moment later. You got a map of this place, too? Flick me a copy.

V did as he asked, and almost imperceptible, Jackie shifted beside her, obscuring his eyes to hide the glow of his lens. He gave her shoulder an amicable pat, and stepped out into the corridor.

“Wait, what...?” V tried to ask, the words a breath on her lips and spoken to late.

“¡Cogé a cada una de tus madres y a tus padres cogé dos veces!”

Having brought all due attention down on his head, Jackie turned and bolted back the way they had come, bellowing a boisterous laugh as he did.

It was only luck and timing with which V slipped around the planter, out from under the gaze of a soldier glancing back, and as two men left behind – the one cutting through, the other his guard – turned their attention back to the door.

Great plan, Jack, V was tempted to send after him.

Not that she had a better one.

She stifled it, focusing on the task at hand.

Stepping up silently behind the guard, V caught her arm around his throat and prayed he would go down before he could send a message to his buddies.

He went slack in her arms, and the other man didn’t seem to notice.

A good sign.

The power tool posed a challenge – scanning it, V found a weak link and short-circuited its connection to the powercell. When the man stood, she leapt at him out of the darkness to slam his forehead against the door, knocking him cold as well.

V sighed.

The rabbit crouched at the door as she pulled the battery from the cutting tool, and used it to restore emergency power to the keypad. Whatever programs had been loaded onto the Kabuki packet autobooted to work their magic, and the door slid open with a screech of warped metal.

Dim light spilled out.

When she looked down, the rabbit was gone again.

The room beyond was half-powered. Emergency lights still hummed above her head, brighter than the ones in the hall, as she passed under them, but there was also the deeper hum of more sensitive electronics. Taking it in, V found herself standing in a netrunner station – a single chair in the center of the room, surrounding by an array of databanks and consoles and screens, with even more databanks stacked deep along the walls.

There was a woman in the netrunner chair, eyes closed and inert.

Biting her lip, V concentrated on what looked to be the main console. She linked in to it, and whatever command or access she was carrying seemed to... do... something, as some of the screens flashed to life, and the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed to life.

An unmarked text message flickered across her display, demanding her attention.

Retaining bolt.

“Um?”

As V stood there, at a loss, another message appeared.

Back of the chair. Slides across.

She glanced at the woman in the chair as she circled it, examining closer. Finding what she thought must have been it, she fussed with the lateral bolt until it scratched and slid from one side of its mooring to the other.

Something disconnected, and as soon as V had pulled the bolt, the netrunner stirred. She groaned as she struggled to sit up, and V sprung to her feet to support her as she detached one wire after the next. Fully disconnected, she wavered a bit in V’s hold, and perhaps thinking better of it, sank back into the chair.

“...water?”

V frowned.

She hadn’t thought to bring water.

But had she...?

Stepping back, she dug through her bag in search of any that might have happened along for the trip. Instead, she unearthed a soft nutrient packet. Unsealing it and uncapping the built-in straw, she pressed into the woman’s hands, letting go only when she was certain it wouldn’t fall from them once she did.

Raising it to her mouth without even looking at it, the woman pulled a tentative sip. She pulled a face at the flavor, side-eyeing V as she did, but continued to drink the thick mixture anyway.

“It’s pomegranate black cherry,” V stated helpfully.

“It’s goddamn corn syrup,” the woman groused back.

“Yeah...” V agreed cheerfully, “But it’s artificially sweetened to taste like what some corpo-mandated algorithm has determined pomegranate and black cherry mixed together tastes like. And the date’s still good – ‘cause that shit’ll last well into the next century.”

The woman rolled her eyes.

“And, uh...” V pulled the jacket she’d found out of her bag, along with the cyberdeck. “I think this is yours?”

She offered it to the woman, who stared at it coolly.

“...yeah,” she said after a moment, taking it from V. “Thanks.”

With a distinct lack of enthusiasm, she left the entire thing in her lap as she focused instead on sucking down the fruity meal replacement corn syrup.

Moments ticked by in awkward silence. V walked along the perimeter marked off by the consoles, drumming her fingers on the metal casings, and the woman eyed her all the while.

Before V could think of a suitable topic to broach the silence, a message flickered on her lens.

Hope you’ve found what you’re looking for, chica, ‘cause I could use a hand whenever you got a moment.

Her blood ran cold.

“Fuck,” she swore out loud.

Jackie wasn’t asking for help, he was just... asking for help.

That didn’t bode well.

Finding the woman staring at her, V explained, “I gotta delta – my partner might be in trouble.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “The guy I explicitly told you not to bring along?”

“Yeah, well – he’s stubborn,” V defended. “And to be fair I don’t think I could have gotten down here without him; we ran into another team down here trying to get to you and he opted to run a decoy. On his behalf, You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Motherfucker.”

Taking a thick slurp off the packet, the woman sought out of the cyberdeck in her lap. She plugged them into the jack on her arm, and strapped the cuff around her wrist.

“So, yeah,” V said, starting for the door, “gotta go.”

After a thought, V paused to turn back. “And... um, I guess you should know where my apartment is; Megabuilding H-Ten, oh-seven-sixteen – feel free to grab whatever you need out of it once you get out of here.”

“Wait.” Patting down her pockets until she found it, the woman pulled the blank shard from her jacket. She slotted it, and V hesitated, glancing at the door.

A handful of moments later, she slipped the shard free, and held it out.

“Take this.”

“What is it?”

“Trust me.” The netrunner shrugged. “Or don’t.”

~*~

V dashed down the halls, following Jackie’s signal. She barely slowed coming around the corner where he was pinned down, and slid her knife free from its sheath.

None of the soldiers were paying her any mind, too focused on the displaced Valentino in their midst.

Jackie was kicking up a fuss: machete in one hand, gun in the other, with a modicum of cover in an old office and a barrage of increasingly petty insults.

They might’ve wanted him alive. To know how he knew about this place, or whatever intel Corporate liked to know about trespassers on their top-secret bases.

V held no such regard for their benefit.

Their armor was comprehensive, so she focused on the weakest spot she could fathom, and jammed her knife into the soft gap between the helmet and the shoulders of the first man she reached. He went down in a gurgle of blood, and her sudden arrival caught the rest of the lot by surprise.

As soon as he realized she was there, Jackie leapt into the fray with her, firing at one of the men and bringing another to his knees with enough force to crack bone as he twisted between them to reach her.

Between the two of them, an easy half of the soldiers were down before they wound up back to back, surrounded in the cramped hallway. The rest began to spasm and collapse one after the other around them as their implants seized up and overloaded, burning them from within.

For Jackie, the fight went on a moment longer, until he realized for good there wasn’t anyone else left standing. He raised an eyebrow at the still-twitching bodies.

“Ah...” He turned to V. “Neat trick. Hope you got what you came here for,” he told her again, adding, “‘cause I think they called for backup.”

“Reinforcements are on their way, I suggest you find an exit now.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” V answered them, one after the next, “Hey, what about you?”

Jackie blinked at her, before the realization dawned on his face that she wasn’t talking to him.

“Already way ahead of you.”

“Yeah, alright,” V replied, before glancing up at Jackie. “Time to leave.”

“Pase,” Jackie agreed, with a sweep of his arm.

With no rabbit to guide them, they followed the map. It cut them a swift path to the security gate, and they escaped back into the desert.

~*~

The closest thing to a rendezvous was V’s apartment, and the netrunner wasn’t there waiting for them.

For a few moments, V thought she might have been. The door glitched, refusing at first to open, but everything seemed as she and Jackie had left it – the bed unmade, the room lived in, in a hurry.

In the end, it might have been wishful thinking. V realized she wouldn’t have been able to tell, one way or the other.

Once it was obvious they were alone, Jackie had shed his machete and made himself right at home on her couch.

V followed him, slowly, and was still trying to determine if – maybe – that one can of cream tangerine dream in particular had been open and empty when they’d left when he leaned forward to wrap his arms around her and pull her onto his lap.

“All’s well that ends well, huh?”

V shifted around in his arms, and he kept her steady as she found her balance, knees to one side of him as she draped across his chest, leaning into his shoulder.

“Has it ended well?” she asked.

Jackie’s eyebrows raised in question. Her fidgeting stopped. “I thought... you might be pissed off.”

“You kidding?”

“Not really, no.”

“V, you tried to seduce me as a means to a deception. That’s like somethin’ I would do. I love it to think that I might be a bad influence on you.”

V snorted. “Other way around, maybe.”

“Maybe. But, uh....” Shifting under her, Jackie shrugged. “Anything else you might wanna let me in on, while we’re on the subject?” He brushed her cheek with his thumb, then his hand dropped lower, where he toyed with the neck of her shirt. “Little secrets? Heartfelt confessions?” Smirking, he flicked his gaze up to meet her eyes. “Any other shit you might’ve been holding out on me?”

V pressed her tongue into the corner of her mouth as she considered the question.

“I thought it must be obvious,” she remarked.

“Hrmm?”

Dipping her head, she nuzzled his jaw.

He tilted his face towards her and their lips brushed together as she pulled only near enough away that their eyes again met. Stretching just that far, Jackie enticed her back down until her mouth was pressed firmly against his, with his fingers tangled her hair.

The television screen flickered to life, emitting a soft, crackling hum.

V paid it little mind; Jackie, even less.

“...am I interrupting?”

They broke apart, V casting about for the source of the voice and Jackie tensing outright, his fingers digging into her shoulder as he assessed the danger of a threat that wasn’t there.

Or... was maybe not a threat to them, anyway.

“Mmm, tal vez un poco,” Jackie answered her, while V stared mutely at the screen. “Wanna try back in an hour?”

The woman depicted on it hrrmphed.

“The name’s T-Bug. I wanted to thank you for your assistance earlier.”

“I’m happy we got there in time.”

“Trust me, so am I.” In the brief pause that followed, the woman seemed to arrange her thoughts. “Listen, I...” she explained, haltingly guarded, “Recently... I’ve hit upon some hard times, and my resources are limited right now. I can’t exactly pay you back for what you’ve done for me, but I’d still like to find a way to even things out.”

“Sometimes it’s not about the payoff.”

V started to slide off Jackie’s chest as he jolted up straighter. Eyes locked on the screen, he slipped an arm over her to catch her on reflex, and she got a hand on the couch to prop herself back up.

“Hey... you...” he jabbed a finger at the screen, eyes narrow. “Not to interrupt, but I feel like I know you from somewhere. Did we, uh... Have we... met... before all this?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Jackie fidgeted beneath her, and V followed the conversation raptly between him and the woman on the screen. “Sorry, if I, uh... can’t remember every little detail...”

“I was hired on for cybersecurity. Consulting job. You showed up out of literal nowhere and punched my client in the jaw. Tracking you down after the fact wasn’t really worth anyone’s time or money.”

“¡Ay! That... must’ve been it. Now that you bring it up.” Under his breath, he breathed a quieter, “Gracias a Dios.”

T-Bug seemed to regard him for moment more, then her attention visibly shifted.

“V.”

“Mhhm?”

“I’ll contact you later when I’m better situated.”

“Guess you already know where to find me.”

“Yeah. In the meanwhile, I’ll let you get back to... what you were doing.”

The television screen flickered off again.

Jackie continued to stare at it, until V combed her fingertips through his hair and she felt him start beneath her.

“Ah. Right.” Jackie cleared his throat. “What were we doin’ again?”

Biting back a smirk, V offered a hapless shrug. “Not sure I remember.”

“Guess we’ll just have to do this, then.”

The way his arm tightened around her was all the warning she got when all at once he twisted, rolling her onto the couch beneath him with a deep chuckle at her surprised squeak.

~*~

“Where’s your friend?”

“Honest?” V answered wryly, “In hiding.”

“...in hiding?”

T-Bug met her easy smile with open skepticism.

It only made V’s smile grow deeper.

“I think he might be worried that you’re gonna hack his dick.”

Hands slowing as she worked, T-Bug regarded V for a long moment, then scoffed with a shake her head.

V leaned over the chair, watching her wire her space. The apartment was barely more than a room, smaller than V’s, and the assorted half-built array of netrunning equipment took up half the floor space, and a sliding partition wall separating the net space from the rest of the living space made it feel even smaller.

“Isn’t this place a little cramped?”

“You don’t need much space when you’ve got cyberspace.”

Sitting back, T-Bug scratched her eyebrow. “So, I managed to, uh... I called in some old favors, scraped together a few eddies; it’s not much, but it should cover the food I took from your apartment. It’s on the counter.”

“From the looks of things, I think you need it more than I do.”

T-Bug’s eyes widened, a glance slowly pulled V’s way. “Generous of you.”

She sighed, brushing off her hands as she got to her feet, and fixed her stare on V.

“Hey. Who are you, really?” she asked. “The letter V alone is impossible to find a data trail on; what’s the real name?”

“V is my real name. In its entirety. I rode with the Bakkers, before the clan fell apart.”

“And now you do mercwork in Night City?”

“It’s a living. And I occasionally rescue netrunners from...” V trailed off as her gaze fell on the chair, and she realized she still didn’t know. “What the hell was all that, anyway? Why did they have you locked in like that?”

The expression on T-Bug’s face soured.

“From what I managed to piece together when I was in their network, some kind of AI research,” T-Bug indulged her, “I don’t know the detes. Typical corpo overlord wanna-be bullshit.”

“You don’t think anyone’ll come after you?”

“I hope they’ll have learned their lesson the first time. And, with respect? I’m trying to put it behind me.”

V took the hint.

And felt a twinge of regret for having asked

Standing straighter, she gave the chair a pat.

“Guess I should let you... finish... setting up all this...”

It looked pretty set up, but V didn’t know much about netrunning tech, aside from the few tricks she’d picked up in trade.

“Mmm,” T-Bug intoned.

V started for the door, pausing at the threshold as T-Bug’s drifted after her.

“Hey, V?”

V looked back to find screens flickering on. Standing amidst the cluttered display of cyber-tech that was her element, T-Bug smiled at her... for all that it looked a little forced. “I’ll be in touch.”

Smiling back, V nodded a goodbye.

The door slid closed behind her; the indicator on the panel reading it to be locked.

V followed the faded carpet running the length of the hallway towards the stairs, to make her way out onto the streets. There, she rolled her shoulders as she picked a direction at random, her smile had faded a touch, but didn’t vanish.

She had no destination in mind.

It was nearing midnight, and the city was still wide awake.

#cyberpunk 2077 #nomad!v #jackie welles #t-bug #misty olszewski #viktor vektor #fanfiction #please take this away from me now #it is a long fic for me you probably wanna read it on ao3

8 notes · View notes

scarletaire · 4 years

Text

homeland (Chapter 4)

A/N: This is the chapter I’ve been most looking forward to and most nervous about to write! I’m excited to finally put it out into the world ❤️

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Genre/s: Contains Fluff, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Smut

Rating: E

Tags: Post-QON, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Protective!Cardan, Bewildered!Jude, Jude and Cardan discuss the Undersea, but they get a little Distracted

Description:

Cardan’s eyes flash open.

“Why?” he repeats, and Jude feels the power shift between them. “Don’t you remember, wife?” he croons. “It was the Undersea who stole you away from me.”

And Jude has only enough time to think, danger, before he lunges at her.

or:

Cardan and Jude work on removing their armor. Taking off this particularly stubborn piece happens in varying states of undress.

Links: Masterlist | AO3

Jude wakes alone to an empty room.

The first thing she notices is that she’s in the royal suite. Someone has laid her out on the giant silkspun bed and folded the covers gently over her. She’s been stripped of her clothes and returned to the nightgown that she slept in.

The second thing she notices – her head is killing her.

She struggles into a sitting position and immediately regrets it. There is a cold ache at the base of her skull, and it radiates up into her skull without mercy the more that she tries to move. She has to catch her forehead in her hand because it’s almost impossible to keep her head up. Her muscles feel sore, like she’s just finished a brutal sword match with five of Grima Mog at the same time.

Has she been poisoned?

Pressing the heels of her palms over her eyes, Jude tries to think through the fog of pain. She runs through the list of poisons that she once upon a time routinely fed herself in order to bargain immunity. She comes up worryingly short: it isn’t wraithberry, because the speed of her pulse when she presses her fingers to her wrist is normal, if a little slow from slumber. It isn’t blusher mushroom, either, because paralysis should have set in by now. And the fact that she woke up from sleep at all refutes the possibility of deathsweet.

Her body aches, her head is pounding, her blood is cold underneath her skin despite all of the blankets, and more than anything, she’s pissed.

It’s either someone failed spectacularly at poisoning her properly, or whatever it is, it’s something completely new.

And new means that she has no immediate plan for it. New means that she’s just as helpless as anyone else.

All she has consumed up to this point came from the food tray she ate from before she set out for Insear. That immediately rules it out because then that means that Cardan should also be –

Her thoughts screech to a halt.

Cardan.

She told Cardan about kissing Balekin in the Undersea.

And then she’d – blacked out.

Jude’s mind races to recall his reaction. Was he angry? Insulted? Disgusted? But just like with the poison she draws a blank. Her memory of that moment is too foggy to sift through, and she is left wondering if she’s made a mistake.

She needs to talk to Cardan. She needs to talk to him now.

That’s when Tatterfell comes bustling in.

She takes one look at Jude, her black eyes roving over her undressed form, and tuts. “You should be ready for the revel.”

Jude attempts to sit up a little straighter, but it only makes her grit her teeth when her head swims. “Where is the High King?”

“It appears he has stepped out.”

“Out?”

Tatterfell shakes her head. “He left in a hurry. The night’s revels are about to begin. Perhaps he went to check on preparations.”

“Of course. Preparations.”

If the imp is put off by Jude’s monotone responses, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she motions for her to take her place in front of the mirror. Jude makes her way over, but her body is sluggish and slow to respond. She clenches her fists and pushes herself out of bed, refusing to show any weakness in front of her old attendant.

“Anything will do for tonight,” Jude says, nodding at the closet. The last thing she cares about right now is what she’s going to wear. Her mind reels with all the things she needs to say to Cardan, with all the things that he could say to her. She’ll find him at the revel, and then they’ll… talk.

“No matter.” Tatterfell’s voice is inscrutable. “Your garments have already been provided for.”

With a flourish, she unfurls the dress that she is carrying over her arms. It’s styled after a peacock: plumed feathers of royal blue and vibrant turquoise make up the bodice, and a fall of shimmering, night sky fabric makes up the skirt.

Despite everything, Jude’s eyes go wide.

This time, there is no sleep-softened husband to help her into her clothes. No soft looks from beneath eyelashes. No lingering touches. Instead, Tatterfell unlaces the discernibly negligible back of the dress, and looks up at her impatiently.

When Jude steps into it, the soft tips of the feathers kiss her bare collarbones, and the iridescent skirt flows down close to her legs; it spreads out where it reaches the floor, the multi-colored hem fanning out to mimic the way a peacock spreads its plumage.

The effect is extraordinary. Elaborate. Extravagant.

It has Cardan written all over it.

“Troublesome affair, this Insear business,” Tatterfell remarks, pulling Jude’s hair up into a high ponytail. She’s extending the ends of it with lengths of gold-tipped feathers that spill like a peacock’s crest down her back.

Jude’s head is now twice as heavy, and her headache now twice as powerful.

It takes far more effort than it should to respond. “I expect that after tonight it won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Yes, I should very well hope so. For the king’s sake.”

The comment is odd, but Jude’s too weary to mull it over. The way the dress bares her shoulders and arms does nothing to ward off the chill on her skin. Tatterfell clucks at the gooseflesh as she begins the finishing touches of makeup and bodypaint.

“Woe the constitution of a mortal,” she mutters under her breath. It seems that the honor of attending to the High Queen of Elfhame is not enough to rid her of her conservations. “Just today your sister snapped at the servants and commanded that all meals be delivered to her rooms. Complaining of swollen feet and an aching back, of all things.”

“Yes,” Jude says, dryly, “I suspect that’s what being eight months pregnant will do to anyone.”

Tatterfell is unfazed. “She says to tell you she’s sorry to miss the revel. But she sends her well wishes to you and His Majesty.”

Looking in the mirror, Jude thinks of the way Taryn’s features have swelled and changed while carrying her child. It’s all entirely too easy to imagine the changes on herself, because they look so much alike. But as Tatterfell finishes dusting shimmering blue and turquoise powder over her eyelids and cheekbones, then her collarbones, and her wrists, the comparison ends abruptly.

The woman looking back at her in the mirror is unearthly – untouchable, in her own way. She does not look like a nauseous, fatigued human. She looks like the High Queen of Faerie, with her dress of majestic feathers and glittering stars.

The only thing missing is her king.

If he wanted me to wear something he picked out, she thinks to herself, settling her crown on top of her head, he should’ve helped put it on me himself.

Well. That means that she’ll just have to show him, and make him regret it.

_______________

The revel is in full swing when Jude arrives.

The crowd of Folk clap and bow and part to make a path for her, and she gets her full glimpse of Cardan’s Insear peace revel for the first time.

He’s outdone himself. The high ceilings of the ballroom are a mastery of golden lanterns and strings of deep blue roses. No branch goes unadorned, no vine left empty. The whole room is effused with soft, enchanting light, the revelers plied with glasses of bubbling, aquamarine liquor. Even the moss on the walls seem to glow with serene luminescence. This is no space for fighting or hostility. A peace revel, through and through.

And it’s with a jolt that Jude realizes that the room, the decor – the gold, the blue, the turquoise –

It matches her. It matches her dress.

Here, in this revel that Cardan has crafted, she completely and wholly belongs.

Something trips in her chest. It might be her heart.

Jude turns her head immediately toward the throne, where she knows he’ll be waiting. The gravity in the room shifts the moment Cardan comes into her field of vision, and she finds herself tilting in his direction without even thinking. It is disconcerting, how easily he pulls her toward him. She can’t tell if it’s because he wields the power of all of Elfhame or because she’s hopelessly in love with him.

Tonight he wears a cape of ebony feathers and silver chains; dressed head to toe in black, he is the stark midnight contrast to her. He looks every inch the king she made him. His smile holds more promise than a knife.

Jude straightens her back, ignoring the soreness in her limbs and the ache in her head. He wants her to come to him? Fine.

But he’s already getting up from the throne and walking away. The tips of his black curls disappear into the crowd while she stands there, frozen.

He walked away. He turned his back on her.

The fury is icy in her veins. The feeling is close to embarrassment if she were being truthful with herself, but in this moment, she can’t care enough to think about it. She stalks after him, as gracefully as she can amidst the crowd of revelers watching her every move, and she ends up following the tail of his feathered cape all the way up to the secret door behind the throne. Jude sweeps aside the curtain of evergreen and storms inside.

The room has been altered only slightly for the revel. There is the same couch pushed up against the far corner, but the ceiling has been painted over in golden constellations to match the glowing lanterns outside.

“Interesting choice for a meeting place.”

The voice comes from behind her, and Jude moves on instinct. The knife comes from the holster on her ankle, and it gleams silver under the ivy-filtered moonlight as she turns on her visitor, shoving him roughly against the mossy wall.

“I was wondering where you were keeping that,” Cardan says, idly.

“Cardan,” Jude hisses. “How did you sneak up on me?” She hadn’t heard him approach at all. Just how badly is the poison affecting her?

He raises an imperious eyebrow, looking far too comfortable for someone with a knife to his throat. “Must I remind you, I am every bit a part of the Court of Shadows as you are.”

She grits her teeth. “I was supposed to be following you.”

“Yes. And then I decided to follow you instead.” Now both of his eyebrows go up. “I didn’t foresee that you would pick here of all places, what with the revel and all, but I can’t say I’m not intrigued.”

“Stop deflecting.” Because that’s exactly what he’s doing, isn’t it? With his easy posture and the smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. She sees right through him, but not enough to understand why there’s a mask in the first place. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Something shutters in his expression, the edges of his amusement going the slightest bit duller. “No, Jude. You’re the only thing I can’t run away from.”

She presses him harder against the wall. She’s too tired for any of this. Her body aches. Her head hurts. She doesn’t have the energy or the patience left for another one of Cardan’s moods. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But instead of answering, Cardan hooks his ankle behind hers and pulls her stance out from under her. Jude loses her balance, and he uses the momentum to swing her around and press her against the wall. She’s too dizzy to fight it, the sudden movement making her head swim.

Her knife falls to the ground, cushioned by the soft, grassy loam.

His smile has returned. But it’s the one he hides behind, the one that she thought she was seeing less and less of when it was just the two of them together. Something cold settles in her stomach the moment she sees it.

“Shall we play a little game, darling?” he croons into her ear.

“This is no time for games,” she snaps.

“Oh, I disagree. I think this is the perfect occasion.”

“Cardan.”

“Want to know what the game is?” His voice has gone deadly soft. “It’s called, ‘Show me how he touched you.’”

Jude goes very, very still.

He pulls back just enough so that he can gauge her expression. So that she can see the hard emotion in his eyes as he looks her over. She gets the uncomfortable feeling that it’s something she should recognize.

Her first thought is that he is being facetious. She searches his eyes for any trace of drink or drug. She finds none. This is no jest. He is being entirely, unlaughably serious.

And not for the first time when it comes to him, Jude finds that she is the tiniest bit afraid.

Cardan closes the scant distance between them again, bracing an arm against the wall by her head. He doesn’t trap her physically. No, it’s much worse. He traps her by the promise of his proximity, a promise that she could gorge herself on and never get her fill.

And that’s what she’s most afraid of, really. Not him. But what she’s willing to let him do to her, if only he would come closer.

“This is all I could think of,” he murmurs, “watching you during the revel. You can never make it easy for me, can you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s not a lie.

“No, I don’t suppose you would. You have a way of doing that to me. Making me suffer with nary a forethought.”

“Cardan –”

“Tell me.” His voice is so steady, so calm. Too calm. “Did he come close to you, like this?”

As he speaks, his other hand comes up to rest on the wall as well, so that he is holding himself above her, their bodies merely inches apart.

She doesn’t respond.

“It’s easy,” he says, gently. Almost kindly. Jude doesn’t believe it for a second. “I’ll make a guess, and you tell me if I’m right. Is this how my brother approached you?”

Whatever she thought would come out of her confessing the truth about Balekin, it definitely wasn’t this.

“Answer me, Jude. Play the game.”

A short breath escapes her. “No.”

“No?”

There’s a hidden question there, and Jude realizes her response must have sounded like a rejection. She could stop this game if she wanted to. He’d let her.

But now that it’s started, now that she has him right here, in front of her, she needs to see it through. He’s saying something with his eyes and the tense lines of his body that she should have been able to decipher by now, and she has never been able to deny him. Even now, when this whole thing feels like she’s being handed a winning card that she doesn’t know what to do with, she will take everything that she can get.

She raises her chin. “No, he didn’t approach me like that.”

A slight furrow in his eyebrows, almost imperceptible, there and then gone just as quickly – it’s the first real reaction she has procured since the revel began.

“I see,” is all he says.

His hands drift lower against the walls until they are level with her waist. He’s not touching her, but she can almost imagine the feeling of them settling on her hips. “Did he put his hands on you to pull you closer?”

Jude tries to keep her voice steady. It doesn’t work as well as she wants. “No.”

He pauses. It’s difficult to see his expression, because he’s leaning down to speak in her ear now and all she can see is the mess of his black curls. She wonders if he’s trying to tell if she’s lying.

“All right,” he says. “How about here?” One of his hands finally leaves the wall, rising until the backs of his fingers are a moth’s wing away from the swell of her cheek. “Did he touch you here?”

“No.”

His fingers drift lower, wandering down her jawline to the sensitive skin of her neck. He’s still not touching her. His thumb hovers at the pulse point fluttering under her skin.

“And what about here?”

Jude closes her eyes. “No.”

She can hear Cardan breathing, long inhales and deeper exhales. It’s gotten louder the longer this game went on. This game, Jude realizes, that he is trying very hard to hide behind. This game that is perhaps instead showing his hand. Little by little. She just wants him to look at her. She wants to see the emotion in his face, devoid of any artifice.

His hand poises over her collarbones, and she can almost feel the heat of his skin on hers, bared by the open collar of her dress. She wants to arch into him, close the distance that he won’t. The phantom of his touches is a physical thing she feels in the pit of her stomach.

She waits for the question. But this time it doesn’t come right away, as if he is afraid to even ask it, as if he doesn’t want to hear the answer. Jude has to wonder at his hesitation now. “Did he –”

Jude cuts him off, because there is something she realizes she should have made clear from the beginning. Something that she can’t believe she has waited this long to say. It seems they both have a long way to go until they are rid of the games they have grown so used to. Until then, she will meet him on this chosen battleground.

“No, Cardan.” She steels herself beneath him, and reaches up to take his hand, suspended in the air, in her own. He stills. Their hands drop, intertwined, between them. “The answer will always be no. He didn’t touch me. Not like that. Cardan, he could barely stand to kiss me.”

He says nothing, and Jude barrels on.

“He thought I was under a geas,” she explains. “No one knew that I was resistant, not him, not Orlagh. It was my choice to pretend. I had to, or they’d kill me. Towards the end, Balekin told me to kiss him the way I kiss you.” She’s never told anyone this before. “I think… I think he wanted to know something. Something about you.”

Abruptly, Cardan steps back.

Jude gets her first good look at him since the whole revel started. And she is stunned to the raw, blazing emotion written plainly in his face. His mask is gone now. Any hint of a carefully crafted smile has been replaced by the hard set of his mouth. Any fickle amusement in his eyes has been burned out by something more powerful. She watches, pinned to the wall, as a muscle ticks in his jaw.

Jude is struck by the ominous feeling that they’ve reached a point of no return.

Something like self-preservation kicks in, making her straighten her spine under the force of his emotion. “I don’t regret it. I did what I had to.”

It’s only a beat later that she understands, on some level of animal instinct – saying that has just made it worse.

Cardan snaps.

It happens so fast – and Jude is already so lightheaded – that she finds herself falling against the couch in the far corner within the dizzying blink of an eye. She hits the cushions, the high velvet back of the couch engulfing her.

Cardan looms over her, planting a knee into the cushions between her legs. “You say that like it’s supposed to make me feel better,” he snarls, and, oh, the way his voice shoots through her blood. His hands are clenched into fists, the knuckles turning white.

Jude fights against the protests of her aching body and struggles to sit up. “I don’t understand.” Cardan doesn’t let up, dropping to his hands and knees above her. She sinks back into the ridiculously padded armrest at her back, glaring. His mouth finds its place beside the shell of her ear.

“Jude. You know me better than that.” One hand curls against the back of her neck, and she jumps at the feel of his touch, searing hot against her clammy skin. He angles her head closer as he speaks. “I am neither good, nor gentle.” His voice lowers into something rough around the edges – Jude is surrounded, overwhelmed by the sudden nearness of him. “And I do not forgive.”

Cardan’s mouth descends upon hers.

It’s not the kiss that she’s been waiting for ever since they got interrupted in their bed. It’s not the kiss she would have received from the one who had dressed her so gently, so carefully after they woke.

No. This is something else entirely.

Cardan kisses her like he would kiss an enemy: hard, calculated, every move bearing specific intent. He is demanding something from her with the insistent press of his lips, and she can barely keep up.

Pinned as she is under the warm weight of his body, Jude can only kiss back in kind, the worthy opponent she has trained herself to be. When he presses her back against the cushions, she licks at the seam of his mouth. When he hooks one of her legs around his hips, she tangles her fingers into his hair, desperate with the urge to retaliate.

He groans into her mouth.

But as her mind begins that slow, familiar slide, Jude is struck by the feeling that this kiss is a battle she’s not going to win. Because she’s finally starting to understand a little of what he’s telling her.

It’s in the lingering pecks on the corner of her mouth in between searing kisses. It’s in the way he cradles her face even as he’s pulling her roughly closer. It’s in the way he’s holding on to her, hands fisted in the shimmering fabric of her skirts, even though she’s already wrapped tightly around him.

She thought, all this time, that he was angry with her. Furious. Outraged.

She’s not so sure anymore.

They break apart with the same abruptness with which they came together. She knows it now, this kiss has changed something, chipped away at the final vestiges of whatever mask he was hiding behind.

“Jude.” Her name is a barely veiled plea. “I need you to indulge me something.” That’s when she hears it, that first crack of something fragile breaking in his voice. She feels a tender thing, right there behind her ribcage, unfurl at the sound of it.

“Of course,” she says, immediately, without thinking. “Anything.”

A sigh leaves Cardan’s body. She could have sworn it looked like relief.

But then Jude is swearing for a different reason, because Cardan is now suddenly moving down her body. The breath gets caught in her throat.

“What are you doing?”

“Let me take it away,” he says, voice muffled by her collarbones. “Let me burn away the memory of him. Of the Undersea.”

It takes longer than it should for her mind, honeyed by his kisses, to catch up. She rears back a little, but he’s already leaving a trail of wet marks over the exposed tops of her breasts. “Cardan. The revel. We don’t have time for this.”

His head bows under some strong emotion. The feathers on her dress stand out stark against his dark head. “How dare they,” he whispers. “How dare they use you–” He sends a growl of frustration into the skin of her neck, resuming his path downwards with fevered determination. “I couldn’t do anything then.” He punctuates his sentence with a bruising kiss on the soft spot right underneath her ear, and she squirms. He’s touching all the places he’d asked her about during their game. “Let me do this now.” Another kiss, his lips leaving a wet mark above the crest of feathers between her breasts. She arches into him without forethought. “Indulge me this. I beg of you.”

And this is what gives Jude pause. Because Cardan never begs.

When he reaches down to hook her right leg over his shoulder – when he presses another hot, open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive, tender skin of her ankle –

Jude groans, throwing her head back. It’s an acquiescence and a surrender all at once.

Cardan makes quick work of the silk underwear beneath her dress. It’s gone before she can even protest, lost to the grassy carpet beneath them, and swiftly forgotten. Her husband begins a new path with his mouth, trailing lips and tongue now up the length of her leg. First past her ankle, then up to her bare calf, littering his way with featherlight kisses.

When he gets to her knee, Jude is a mess of anticipation and rumpled blue skirts beneath him. All aches and chills are forgotten. Eyes alight with dark mischief, he traces the tip of his tongue against the fold of her knee, with the barest hint of suggestion, taking his sweet time.

“Cardan,” she says through gritted teeth. “No more games. Just hurry up.”

She is rewarded when he abruptly turns his head and sucks a searing bruise into the inside of her thigh. She jolts, the heel of her foot digging into his shoulder, and he has the nerve to chuckle.

She stares at the swollen curve of his lips, the traces of peacock blue dust on his cheekbones, the way he’s kneeling before her now as if in reverence, and wonders if he was created for her own destruction.

It certainly feels that way when he finally lowers his mouth and seals his lips over her.

Jude falls back against the cushions with a soft moan, muffled against her palm.

Out of all the things they have done, it is somehow this that brings out some semblance of shyness in her. As if she can’t believe how much she enjoys it – but, of course she enjoys it, because Cardan’s mouth has never been anything but wicked, his fingers anything but clever. No, it’s that she can’t quite believe how much he enjoys doing it to her.

And damn him if he doesn’t get her every fucking time.

He presses his lips to the wetness at her entrance, and Jude swallows the next gasp that threatens to leave her lips.

“None of that.” She feels his breath, hot against her slick flesh, when he speaks. She almost whines at the interruption. “Let me hear you properly.”

“Cardan, the revel.” Her words are more breath than actual words. “They’ll hear.”

As if in response, Cardan licks. One long, luscious stroke up the length of her. Opening her up. Making her feel him, right where she wants him. When he reaches her clit, the tip of his tongue flicks over it, the pressure intense and then gone again just as fast. Her whole body jerks, as if the pleasure is a force like an electric shock up her spine.

“Let them hear.” A slow grin spreads his lips, shinier now than they were moments before. “Don’t you want them to?”

The thought that anyone can come in at any moment and see the Queen with her skirts pushed up to her hips, and the King kneeling before her with her legs thrown over his shoulders – well. It sounds like the exact kind of danger that Jude thrives on.

“I –” But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence. Cardan pounces on the hesitation in her voice and sucks her clit into his mouth. Jude’s spine leaves the cushions, her hands fisting in his hair for anything to hold on to. Another moan would have left her mouth as well, but she’s determined not to give him the satisfaction.

She’s not sure how long she will last.

“One last game,” he says, eyes burning. “I’ll touch you in all the places my brother didn’t –” His thumb continues his work while he speaks, rubbing slow, steady circles that are both too much and not enough “– and in return, you’ll let me know how good you feel. You’ll let everyone outside this room know if that’s what it takes.”

This, she learned early on, is something that Cardan has always known more about than her. And the more time that he has spent learning her body has only proven to her how little she stands a chance against him on this particular battlefield. It is one of the few things that she can never begrudge him for being better than her at.

Even now, when he’s wielding it against her, she can’t begrudge him a thing. How can she, when he returns his mouth to her clit and sweeps his tongue over her so perfectly – fast, even strokes across the entirety of it, exactly the way she likes it, as if he means to evaporate the ghost of Balekin’s kiss with every flick. How can she, when he swirls a fingertip at her entrance, nudging it inside just enough so that she can feel the barest of stretches, just enough so that her hips immediately roll trying to get more.

Time melts away after that. Jude’s head is thrown back against the couch, and stars fill her vision, the myriad of constellations painted on the ceiling blurring together into specks of glitter and gold, disjointed and effervescent like the pleasure coursing through her body.

She can barely remember the cold depths of the Undersea. There is only his touch, skin warmed against skin, and his mouth, his lips, his tongue, hotter than anything she’s ever felt before.

“You like this a little, don’t you? Knowing that the entire kingdom is out there waiting for us.” And as if on cue, the music swells as the revelers begin another dance, their cheers audible through the thin mossy walls of the room. “They’re right outside, Jude. Do you think they’ll hear it when you come?”

Her answer is a whimper. She passed the point of words a long many moments ago. The sounds are escaping her mouth with more abandon. He’s done his best to wear her down, and it’s working far too well.

She can feel something immense building tight in her belly. She’s a tiny bit afraid of what it took to get her here. She’s a tiny bit afraid of how little more she needs before it all comes crashing down.

“Do you want to know what I was thinking about when I saw you walk into the room tonight, wearing the dress I handpicked for you?” The sound she makes is less a query and more of a plea for him to continue, whether it’s speaking or ruining her with his mouth, she’s not entirely sure anymore. “I thought to myself that the Undersea will live in nothing but fear, for all the time that you draw breath. And then I thought about how their fear will never be good enough for you.”

He times the next swirl of his tongue – the hardest one thus far – with a perfectly placed flick of his finger, hooking behind her pubic bone and pressing up against that spot that makes her feel like bursting. And it’s over.

Jude comes with something that’s very nearly a scream, if only she weren’t digging her teeth into the back of her hand. Her toes curling. Her body writhing. It builds and it builds, like an earthquake ready to rend her world apart.

She returns to herself only to find that she’s thrown her arms up over her eyes: it’s blessedly dark and uncomplicated behind her eyelids. She finds that she’s a little embarrassed by how strongly he’s made her come. It’s slow work lowering her arms and peeling her eyes open, and when she finally sees him, she’s struck to the bone by the intensity of his gaze.

Even though she’s the one that’s just come all over his mouth and hands, he’s the one that looks like he’s received something he doesn’t deserve.

Cardan leans over her once more to smooth down the fall of her skirts, to fix the positioning of the feathers on her chest. Without thinking, her arms come up to wrap around his shoulders and to bring him closer but then – he’s pulling away.

“I knew the dress would suit you,” he says, eyes burning with something unsated, lips swollen and shining with the evidence of what he’s done to her. “You were never one to hide your true colors.”

And then he stands and walks away.

Again.

___________________

Chapter Visuals:

Moodboard.

Inspiration for Cardan.

(The artist is @nanfe on Tumblr, Twitter, and Instagram.)

Inspiration for Jude’s peacock dress.

(Context: I want to be Tessa Virtue when I grow up, but it’s unfortunately not going to work out because one, who am I kidding, and two, I pulled a muscle just watching this, so suffice to say an Olympic career is definitely not in the cards for me. Still, this video takes my breath away, and bonus, the song arguably fits Jude really well, too.)

_______________

[End Notes]

I wrote this chapter intending it to mirror that scene in Chapter 15 of The Wicked King (you know which one I’m talking about). I also tried to play with the canon idea of Jude being an “unreliable” narrator when it comes to understanding Cardan. As with all things, she doesn't make it easy.

Would love to know what you think! ❤️

P.S. Why, yes, that is a Dark Shadows (2012) reference.

#jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #tfota fanfic #jurdan #jurdan fic #jurdan fanfic #The Folk of the Air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #tcp #tcp fic #twk #tqon #fic: homeland #zita writes

44 notes · View notes